


Immurement

by Shlevznark (Sampagita)



Series: L'Adoration de la Terre [2]
Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Gen, Minor Character Death, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-01-10 14:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 65,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12300738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sampagita/pseuds/Shlevznark
Summary: Was it love? With everything, was it all a lie?"Love is such a... strong word."If one lesson was ever learned, it was that things aren't always as they seem.Part two of a trilogy. Sequel to "Death, Personified."





	1. Cloak and Dagger

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12252512/1/Immurement) on ff.net.

"Ah, I wouldn't do that."

Hans knew that, had the feeling of irritation come over him like it would before, he would've rolled his eyes at the remark from his "traveling companion." But as it was, he just ignored the comment and continued to snake his way through the sea of people brushing past him in the bustling, panicking crowd in the costal city in the Duchy of Weselton. The salt-tinged air nipped at his scarf-covered face as he trudged through the streets, his companion trailing close behind him.

"If you try to stop whatever they're doing, there's no way they'll let you get close to them later. You're just going to get hackles raised," his companion continued to badger. "Don't tell me you're just going to waste the many months of traveling we've done by throwing it all away now. Have you no sense of subtlety?"

"So says the man that flirted ostentatiously with the Queen of Arendelle," Hans pointed out. Should he have laughed after saying that? Growled in anger? Jealousy? It was hard to tell, considering that he wasn't able to  _feel_ any stirrings of emotion ever since he fled Arendelle after having his heart frozen.

While an obvious cause for worry (were he able to do so at the moment), he considered it a blessing to not have to deal with a mind in turmoil over his involvement in the destruction of Arendelle. The frozen heart curse had affected him differently than when Anna was once endangered by it – and while he had his theories yet he wasn't quite sure  _why_ _–_ it allowed him to just continue on with business as usual instead of being immobilized by the crippling grief and fear over his new… "lease on life," so to speak.

If what he had could be considered "living" at all. Numb.  _Frigid cold_ , too, which is why he refrained from casting off his cloak and scarf in the balmy summer weather of the port city; but internally, he was numb.

And everything in his mind and guts told him that was  _wrong_. It was like he was losing his humanity.

While he could no longer feel the ache in his heart, the land still pestered him about sacrifices, so he knew he wasn't quite off the hook on that end of the accursed deal he unwillingly made with the pixies. Heavens, in fact it was ever more difficult to keep the precarious balance between killing for "the right reasons" and ensuring the land was kept satisfied when he couldn't tell how close it was to experiencing another earthquake.

Because of this, there were quite a few that followed him around, but fortunately not as destructive as the one in Arendelle. It was hard to tell if the land was still able to possess him, nor was he willing to find out, so he decided to err on the side of caution and... "dispose" of a few people – in self-defence, of course. Mostly. It probably didn't help that with putting himself in such dangerous situations, there would be moments where he could feel the adrenaline coursing through him. In those fleeting moments, the chill that threatened his well-being would recede and he could finally  _feel_  again.

How gruesome that the means to convince himself he was still alive was to kill. Disgusting.

Another problem, though a comparably smaller one, was his travelling companion. Count Mikelo, though the nobleman likely had a hand in endangering Hans' family along with his friends (if he were allowed to call them as such) in Arendelle, the prince couldn't deny that the nobleman had better use to him alive. Just like that first Order member he happened upon after fleeing Arendelle had said: Mikelo knew too much. Knowledge was power, was it not? Besides, the count was happy to change alliances, claiming that the Order never really treated him well and had a deep-seated grudge against them.

While the count grew flustered and withheld information regarding  _why_ , Hans knew that Mikelo wasn't lying. And the many instances of using the nobleman's connections to secret their way into Weselton helped the prince to  _somewhat_  trust the count.

That man was just... too  _friendly_ whenever Hans even so much as  _spoke_  to him. It wasn't normal.

Seriously, if a person knew that you were cursed with the means to destroy a kingdom, you threatened to kill that same person,  _and_  went ahead to kill everyone else in the same room;  _why would you automatically act like you were friends?_ Wasn't the normal reaction supposed to have more distrust and suspicion? Mikelo acted as if he was friends with Hans before, which was impossible because the prince was never one to allow friendship to form in his life. Well, besides the strange friendship he had with Kristoff, of course.

Regardless, the nobleman had become someone Hans had reluctantly depended upon. Any source of information he would use to bring down a secret society was much too precious to toss aside. Or kill.

" _Steloj!_ " Mikelo exhaled. "Did you not remember the plan? This is where the heart of their organization is! You can't just waltz around like you own the place, or else you're just going to spook them into hiding, and then we have no chance of infiltrating them!"

"I remember," Hans stated, continuing to part his way through the crowd, its density thinning the closer he got to the carriage the people were fleeing from. "I just need to see if anyone needs help."

" _Aĉ,_ is this really necessary?"

"Depends on how you look at it."

Mikelo stretched his mouth into a thin line and visibly huffed, his shoulders rising and falling in acquiescence. "Fine, I'll just hide in a squalid alleyway and try not to get my pockets picked. As per the usual." He wasn't testy or argumentative in tone, in fact, the count seemed disappointed or shocked at having to "stay out of the way as Hans did his dark magic business" for the umpteenth time.

While the nobleman appeared close to an explanation for this…  _peculiar_  behavior throughout the whole journey by foot to Weselton, Hans wasn't going to press the issue. After all, it bothered Mikelo more than it bothered Hans, so the former would be the one to do it on his own timing.

And heaven knew how little  _anything_  bothered Hans nowadays.

...Like trying to pull a likely-flaming carcass from a burning carriage.

Hm… Yup. Nothing. Not even a hint of disgust at the thought of it.

 _Not even the charred remains of what once was a living, breathing person would stir you to emotion,_ a side of him spoke. _You really are losing your humanity._

Was that his conscience? It was hard to tell without the feeling of guilt accompanying it.

" _I'm still waiting,"_  another voice within him said.

 _That_  voice, however, was unquestionably the land.

"I'm taking your scythe with me," the count said over his shoulder as he gave the burning carriage a wide berth into a nearby alleyway. "So I can make sure you're not going to blow our cover, alright? Just investigate, nothing else."

"Whatever you say," Hans said impassively, scanning the wreckage.

So, this was the work of the Order of the Lynx. What once was an exquisite, highly-decorated carriage (some of the rubble was what appeared to be gold trim) made to pull six horses had been reduced to embers and still-flickering flames. An ornate dagger was embedded into the wreckage, its pommel molded into the head of a bobcat. A lynx.

Hans yanked the blade out, hopping away from the fire's heat. He didn't step completely out of its reach, however. Though inside he was numb, he still needed to ensure his fingers freeze over like they did from time to time.

He turned the dagger over in his rag-covered, chilblain-ridden hands, looking for any other distinguishable markings, namely the one who made the weapon.

Just so that he could make a… "visit" in the future, if need be.

A friendly one, possibly, if the blacksmith was working for the Order in a similar capacity as Mikelo if they had family on the line should they refuse. Then again, Hans wasn't going to completely rule out killing the count when he was finished. It was difficult to tell where that man's loyalties laid.

There was no maker mark on the dagger, but there was a small inscription: "With blood and iron and smoke, our victory shall be won. Death to all who oppose us." An Order member was definitely responsible for the destruction of the carriage. He had found a similar one on the body of "Madam Huntswoman," as Mikelo had called her. The count had said that such ornamental weapons were often given to "decorated" assassins and used as a signal for a call to action, if seen in public.

"Curious how you run toward danger instead of away from it like everyone else has," a raspy, masculine voice croaked behind Hans. The prince turned around, ready to call the scythe from wherever it was hiding with Count Mikelo should the need arise. Now that it no longer brought him pain to summon it like before, he found himself doing it more often. And much like the many new developments that arose after fleeing from Arendelle, he tried not to think about their repercussions.

Hans locked gazes with the origin of the voice: a rough-featured, burly man with a crossbow strapped to his back. He supposed it was a good thing the man didn't have a bolt nocked and aimed at him.

"Curiosity can make cowards swell with bravery once in a while," Hans replied.

The man smirked, amused, and held a hand out. "A friend of mine left that dagger. I'll be taking that back now."

Hans' hands twitched slightly around the dagger upon realizing that this man was possibly another Order member, having half a mind to stab him in the face with the dagger. When the female assassin said that there would be "associates" and "business" in Weselton, Hans never realized how  _involved_ they happened to be, namely the chances of coming face-to-face with another member. They were, of course, considered to be a  _secret_  society after all.

That meant they were getting either too cocky about whatever they were trying to accomplish in Weselton, or they were getting sloppy. Good news for Hans if either was the case.

 _Bad for the citizens of this place,_  his inner voice chided.

Right. He needed to think of others. That's what good people did, correct?

…was he considered good?

It was moments like these where he missed the feeling of guilt. Right and wrong were so hard to figure out without it, at least for a reformed man like Hans.  _Supposedly_  reformed. Once-reformed?

"… _it's corrupting you,"_ echoed the warning Elias had given him in Arendelle's dungeon in Hans' thoughts.

No. No it wasn't. Not anymore.

But could something that was once corrupted be reversed?

One thing was for certain: once Hans was done with whatever he needed to ensure his loved ones' safety, he was going to have a long chat with the eleventh-born brother. At least with the lack of emotions, Hans would be able to stay calm during the confrontation next time.

If there would  _be_  a next time. Hans was still mortal, after all. At least he thought so, since he attributed each survival from a near-death experience to either his quick thinking or some form of intervention from the land, not to some inability to die. Infiltrating a secret society of assassins was possibly the most  _dangerous_  act a person could aspire to accomplish.

But strangely, Hans was hopeful. It was touch-and-go for a few times ever since being cursed by that pixie, but he still held onto hope. The source varied throughout, as well, but this time he knew its current source would stay with him.

He hoped to see Elsa again. Alive and well. The only way to ensure that was to eliminate the danger that threatened her all the way in Wesleton. To  _see_  her, he needed to stay alive, too.

"Fingers frozen solid, or something?" the burly man before Hans said, gesturing to the dagger still in his hands and breaking the ruminating prince from his thoughts.

With a motion Hans hoped conveyed a feeling of distaste, he tossed the dagger to the man. The man chuckled at the small display of defiance and reached behind himself, pulling a quaking Mikelo into view by the scruff of the nobleman's neck and shoving the black-haired man to the floor between him and Hans.

The scythe was no longer with Mikelo. Hans' eyes narrowed in suspicion, not liking the new turn of events.

"This whelp here says you had a run-in with my wife," the man spat.

"I've come across many women in my travels," Hans replied coldly. "Care to refresh my memory?"

"This is the Huntsman," Mikelo whipsered, earning him a swift punt in the ribs from the stocky intimidator.

Huntsman. Mikelo mentioned the assassin he killed was called "Madam Huntswoman." Oh, what a coincidence.

"Liked to wear a dark cloak, kept a short sword hidden, preferred weapon a stiletto?" Hans listed off. The Huntsman huffed affirmatively in reply. Hans pulled out the sword the woman "lent" him, letting the steel blade gleam in the sunlight to allow the man to inspect it closely. He pointed its tip to the man's chest. "What's it to you?"

The Huntsman laughed heartily, "Ah, she gave you her sword, eh? So you're the new recruit that she wanted to vet, huh? Seems like the yarn this starving artist here tried to spin me turns out to be true."

Hans flicked his gaze to the panicking Mikelo, who gave him an intense look that warned against saying anything otherwise. Another look, this time to the sword Hans held in his hand, signaled him to lower it. He obliged.

So he wanted him to lie. Alright, nothing too hard, then. He was growing tired of having to fight all the time, anyway.

"Yes, she gave me an interview, seemed to like what I had to offer for your organization, and directed me to make my way to Weselton," Hans said, using the base of truth to make himself seem more believable.

"Hmph. You don't seem one of those classy types," the Huntsman scrutinized. "What kind of questions did she ask you during your interview?"

"Mainly just my ability to wield a sword."

"And what did you tell her?"

"I said I was trained."

"And you have experience with the fancy etiquette stuff?"

Hans furrowed his brow. What did etiquette have to do with anything? "Depends. I'm a bit infamous when one speaks of me in the royal courts."

"Infamous enough where you hide your face, eh?"

Hans remained silent.

"I'm just joking with you," the man said warmly, mirth gleaming in his eyes. "If my wife thought you're good for the job, I won't question it. Times are tough, and we could use all the help we could get. It's hard enough trying to find assassins who know how to blend in with rich people." He waved them over. "Come, I'll get you situated with a team, and then we can get things started."

###

"There's still no word of his whereabouts?"

"None, Your Majesty. There have been vague rumors cropping up ever since he frightened his pursuers away a year ago; but each time someone goes out to investigate their veracity, no traces are left."

A disaster. That's what Arendelle and Queen Elsa's rule had become. A disaster that looked to be irreparable.

And what good deed could she even boast that evidenced her ability to do so, to fix whatever damage Arendelle had experienced? She allowed a treasonous prince into her kingdom – against the behest of her people, no less – despite the dangers that surrounded him. Never mind that he wanted to change, never mind that they were only working under the suggestions of the trolls' foresight, never mind the nuances the public didn't see.

Because it was all cause-and-effect in the end. Invite a dangerous individual in, expect danger to follow. That is simply what happened. That is why her people grew distrustful of their queen, disillusioned at best.

The good reputation of the crown, years of work and diligence her parents and ancestors did to maintain it – crumbled into shambles just like the ruins that surrounded her castle.

All was not lost, fortunately, and it certainly could have gone a lot worse, since King Pieter and the rest of his brothers helped in Arendelle's rebuilding efforts. They even helped to repair whatever social schism had manifested itself between Arendelle and its queen by diverting much of the blame to themselves. Some distrust still remained, but it was enough for her subjects to follow her orders and listen to her assurances that things were working in the people's favor.

She should be glad. Grateful, at minimum.

But she couldn't. Not when her heart felt… shattered.

Upon hearing the bounty hunter's news – yes, bounty hunter; she'd stooped that low, fallen to be that desperate; and not only had she hired one, but a whole team of them – she new that her heart wouldn't piece itself back together anytime soon. Not when Prince Hans was out there, somewhere. Not when she didn't know if he was safe, or when she didn't know if others were safe. Was he even still alive? She froze his heart, after all. What act of true love had he done to survive for this long? There was no word of another being cursed as Hans was by the pixies to suggest that he perished and was replaced.

She didn't even get to see him leave. She didn't know what state he was in, to know any hints to how he might be conducting himself without her good influence – once-good influence – around. Just that thought alone tormented her every waking moment.

So many questions, so many things she didn't know. There were too many things that could go wrong.

If they hadn't already.

If only a few of her questions were answered, maybe the nightmares would finally end. Heaven knew how many sleepless nights she'd had to worry through for the past year. That was probably where a good portion of the blame for her irrational decisions came from as of late. The servants around the castle never pointed out how fatigued she looked, but of course she didn't escape it when it came to Anna.

Considering that the princess had lessened such remarks in the past few days, well… maybe Elsa was doing better instead of getting worse?

That was a lie, and she knew it.

"I see," Elsa said disappointedly to the bounty hunter. "Where will your team search next?"

"Weselton, Your Majesty," she answered, inclining her head slightly. "I know the place isn't within the likely areas he may wander, but considering the duchy's recent state of unrest, my team and I might be able to do our searches without much notice. It wouldn't hurt to check."

"Alright. And you would like a quarter of the payment before you leave as usual?"

"Yes, Queen Elsa."

"Stop by the treasury, they're aware of your visit."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

As the bounty hunter left the throne room, Anna entered in, staring in disapproval at the armor-cladded woman's back as the door swung closed behind her. The princess turned to the queen, a frown on her face.

It felt like Elsa was receiving a lot of those lately.

"I really don't like that you're having business with those people," Anna stated.

"It was either this, or have the citizens go on a manhunt on their own volition. This is better. Safer. For everyone," Elsa explained.

"Is it really?"

"Anna, we've talked about this countless times in the past."

"I know, I know. I just… I hate how forcing him to leave is destroying you, Elsa. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have made that call when you weren't able to. I shouldn't have made that decision when everything was tense. I ruined everything."

"Anna, please. We've discussed this already. We can go on for hours, talking about who was to blame for what, where everything went wrong, if it was better to do one thing over the other; or we can take our losses as they come and try to work with them, try to move forward."

Anna turned away, half-attentively tracing a nearby picture frame with her eyes. She murmured in a low voice, "Everyone is moving forward except for you. You're stuck."

Elsa knew Anna wasn't trying to instigate something, or at least not intentionally. There was something else, some other reason that the princess had to visit Elsa in the throne room. Anna was a lot more on edge than usual.

"Anna… what happened?" Elsa asked. But she already had a feeling. It was about Kristoff.

"It's been a year," Anna said softly, staring at the ground. "He gave up. They gave up."

Oh no.

"There isn't anything they could do?"

"No, but he's adjusting. He's Kristoff, remember? I just… hope I can be as strong."

"You are, Anna. You risked everything just for me, once, remember?"


	2. Into the Nest of Hornets

It could have been worse. He could've had his limbs chopped off instead.

As Kristoff stared at his useless limbs as he sat on the wheelchair (it reminded him too much of those baby carriages the citizens would push around), he couldn't help but feel like it would be better to be legless. At least his heart wouldn't have to work so hard pumping blood in trying to keep the pointless body parts alive.

 _Cut that out, Kristoff,_  he reprimanded himself.  _Thinking like that won't fix anything._

Right, he needed to stay strong. For Anna.

He had been bedridden for too long, anyway. Today was the first day he was able to wander around the castle since being deemed stable enough to do so. He could have done it sooner, of course, but he didn't want to risk damaging his injured limbs, holding onto the hope that  _maybe_  if he didn't jostle them around at all, they would miraculously heal on their own.

Even when all the medicines and treatments and healing spells the doctors and his family tried didn't work. At least they kept him alive during the first few months after the injury took place.

Kristoff huffed, gripping giant wheels beside him and propelling himself forward by rolling them by hand, the motion feeling awkward and unpracticed. The wheelchair was a fairly new design, imported from across the sea specifically for him. Unlike its precursors, there was no need for a person to aid him in his mobility. It was clunkier, but at least he could retain at least a little bit of his independence.

That is, until he encountered a door. Then he was reminded at how helpless he'd become.

He ignored the feeling of self-pity as a servant opened the door to the throne room for him, wheeling himself before the queen and the princess. Both of them appeared to be disturbed at seeing him. Upon seeing Anna, however, his eyes lit up, his predicament forgotten. A genuine smile pulled at his cheeks.

"Hi," he said shyly, breathlessly. It seemed that whatever grieved the princess prior to his entrance was cast aside and she made her way to her waiting husband, embracing him in a hug. "I feel like a terrible husband for not taking out my wife on a date for our anniversary."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Anna said, a hint of sadness in her eyes. Kristoff knew that she was recalling the events at their wedding.

"Anna, really, I'm going stir-crazy staying in this castle. Humor me?"

Anna pursed her lips, then grinned happily. Tensely.

"You two enjoy each other, okay?" the queen called after them as they left the throne room side by side. "And bring her back before sundown!"

"As you wish, Your Majesty!" Kristoff called back as the doors closed behind him and his wife.

###

Elsa sank into her throne, the vacancies her sister and her brother-in-law left behind weighing on her. She started to miss them even more (preposterous, since they were only going to be away for a few hours) when her solitude was interrupted by King Pieter and a couple more of the Westergaard siblings, Aleksander and Magnus.

"Greetings, Queen Elsa," King Pieter said, bowing slightly at the hip respectfully. "The other sovereigns have agreed to attend the summit save for one."

"Weselton?" Elsa guessed. Not that it was much of a guess.

"The duke continues to repudiate both of our kingdoms. Considering the upheaval within his boundaries, I'm assuming there is also activity from the Order of the Lynx going on in the duchy that makes him loath the thought of leaving in the midst of the chaos. He  _is_  known to be quite stubborn."

"I will send another letter, then. I'm afraid if he continues to refuse, we will have to commence the meeting without him."

King Pieter looked away, the fact that there was another subject he wanted to broach was written plainly on his face.

"I couldn't help but notice a group of... swords-for-hire convened in the foyer earlier. May I ask what their purpose for being here would be?"

The queen resisted the urge to sigh. She hadn't yet told them of her search efforts for Hans, deciding that it was best for them to not know. But enough was enough. He was their brother, and considering the rumors that cropped up around the supposed whereabouts of the youngest prince, they had a right to know what might happen to him.

"I hired them for the search of Prince Hans," Elsa explained.

A pained look overcame the king and princes at the mention of his name.

"But bounty hunters, Your Majesty?" Prince Aleksander asked.

"My people want him killed and wanted to seek for him themselves," Elsa said. "But he is also dangerous. There have been a trail of suspicious earthquakes along the coasts for the past year, and reports of missing people who would later have their bodies discovered where those tremors originated. While I'm…  _concerned_  for the well-being of your brother, I'm also concerned for the lives of my citizens, so I couldn't allow for their pursuit to continue for both his sake and theirs. And while your actions have helped my people to heal whatever distrust they have in me, King Pieter, I knew that they would no longer sit still and do nothing even if I commanded them to unless I did something about it."

"So what are the fruits of this…  _plan_  of yours so far, Queen Elsa?" Magnus asked.

"Very little. He's elusive. Each time they seem to get close, it's as if he's one step ahead and vanishes before they could confirm his location. But at least we know he's alive."

"But you don't know if he should be killed on sight or not."

King Pieter gave Prince Magnus a nasty look for the remark.

"We were all thinking about it, were we not?" Magnus countered. "Her Majesty froze his heart, and now there's a trail of bodies following him around. Do you not think that there is any correlation between these facts?"

"You're as paranoid as always, Magnus," Aleksander bit.

Elsa sighed, fearing the possibility of having an irreversibly-corrupted Prince Hans that needed to be—

She shook the thought from her head.

"If I may make a suggestion, Queen Elsa," Pieter said.

"You may," Elsa said.

"Prince Niels is quite the tracker, perhaps he could help?"

"You want to send one of your brothers after him?"

"If you'll allow it. Maybe even the fact that one of his family is looking for him can draw him out of hiding."

"Or make himself so scarce even rumors can't reach him. Brilliant idea, my king," Magnus chided with sarcasm.

Should Elsa allow it? She'd already exhausted every other resource into the rebuilding of Arendelle. And while it was a stretch, Pieter's suggestion certainly sounded like it could help. At the very least, having another set of eyes on the lookout for Hans wouldn't impede in the search.

Decision made, Elsa nodded and said, "You have my permission."

###

"What did you do with my scythe?" Hans asked the count as they followed the Huntsman through the alleyways of Weselton.

"He took it from me," Mikelo replied. "The cretin gave it to one of his goons."

"And the  _cretin_  has excellent hearing," the Huntsman said, unamused. "Good thing you decided to comply with me, stranger. I'm sure you didn't notice my teammates watching our exchange earlier. 'Cause if you decided to run me through with my wife's sword, you'd have about ten arrows in your back before you knew what hit you."

Hans scowled, not liking the odds against him. At least he could still sense the scythe's presence nearby from somewhere above. It appeared that the Huntsman's associate was someone rather agile and acrobatic enough to tail them from the rooftops. Hans kept his ears open, listening out for a surprise attack should the Huntsman's intents change.

"So, what became of your caretaker, Ludoviko? I find it strange that my wife is letting you wander around with such a loose leash," the Huntsman said.

"Oh, you know… finding more recruits, likely going to harass me for more information when she rears her head. Did you know that she killed her team members?" Mikelo said.

"About time. They were getting in the way of our plans to take over the Order. Those old-fashioned, brutish assassins that ascribed to the old leader's methods were always so traditional. While sneaking around does have its benefits, the Lightbringer is much too keen on how we operate. We have to think like them, weave our way into their social circles. Infiltration is much better for reconnaissance than breaking-and-entering."

"Wait… you're planning on taking over the Order?"

"Not alone, of course. My wife and maybe a select few members will run the organization. But we just need to make sure the old is tossed out before the new can replace it, if you catch my meaning. There won't be much need for informants like you by then."

Mikelo stopped in his tracks, visibly alarmed at hearing this. Hans nudged him forward, unsympathetic to the count's distress. He did, however, find the new tides of the conversation to intrigue him – in some sadistic sense of curiosity. He just might figure out what made his traveling companion tick.

For benevolent reasons, of course.

Maybe.

"But what of my family?" the nobleman questioned. "You're going to release them after succeeding in your coup, right? You said that once my resources were no longer needed—"

" _I_  never said that. My wife did, so it's on her word that they'll be released."

"But what if she never does?"

"Well, that's on her, not me."

Mikelo scowled at the back of the man's head, muttering unintelligibly in his native tongue. Hans knew the count was likely cursing the Huntsman out.

"I will get them out, I swear it," Mikelo said.

The Huntsman paused, whirled around, and crossed his arms haughtily. Hans and Mikelo halted their steps as well.

"Really? You know fully well if one were to leave the custody of the Order without permission, the Order never leaves them," the man said ominously.

"Wait... you – No! My sisters are still children!"

Impassioned, the nobleman drew back his fist and lunged forward to strike, but quailed when the thickset man drew his crossbow and pointed it at him. Mikelo raised his hands in surrender, but it was obvious there was still defiance in him.

"I swear, if you so much as laid a finger on any of them…"

"Oh,  _I_  didn't."

"You… you vile,  _perverted_  monster. You will tell me where they are or else I'll—"

"You're not in any position for negotiation."

"—scream to the whole world that you're planning a coup."

The Huntsman narrow his eyes, finger around his crossbow's trigger. "Don't. You.  _Dare_."

Mikelo huffed once and cupped his hands around his mouth, ready to shout.

" _Lobedö!_ " the Huntsman commanded. " _Sielö!_ "

The count responded by standing stock still, lowering his hands, and relaxing his riled-up muscles. His eyes were unfocused into a trance-like state.

The Huntsman turned to Hans, smirking triumphantly. "Hypnotism. Always useful on the non-compliant." And the prince could hear the faint makings of a threat in his tone, buttered in excess with cordiality. "Carry him for me, will you?"

A part of Hans told him to be concerned, to turn back from whatever deep waters he was finding himself wading into. And yet again, the lack of feelings made it hard for him to gauge the appropriate actions he should be taking. It was hard to take precautions when the hairs on the back of your neck couldn't alert you when getting into a situation that could easily be too much to handle.

Because there was another part that didn't care what happened, or what measures he needed to take to take down the Order of the Lynx. Threaten his friends? His family? His– well, he wasn't sure what to call Elsa, but he knew that she meant a lot to him. Even if he couldn't feel it at the moment.

He honestly missed that feeling the most, despite it being a novelty he'd experienced briefly.

So Hans nodded and hoisted the nobleman onto his shoulder, silently cursing the weight the dark-haired man had on him. But at least he wasn't overweight, because if he was, Hans would've just dragged his spaced-out body along the ground. Sure, Mikelo likely wouldn't appreciate having most of his skin scraped off by the floor once he woke from whatever trance he was in, and a good person would likely want to avoid causing needless harm to another person... but there was no way Hans would willingly risk his back for the count.

Mikelo was needed, of course, but it didn't mean Hans liked him. As long as the count's ability to spout out information for Hans from time to time still worked, Hans wouldn't really care less about him. The fact that Mikelo had some kind of hypnotic influence upon him concerned the prince, however.

 _Careful,_  Hans reminded himself.  _You might end up in the same situation._

"Tell me about yourself," the Huntsman said once they were again on their way to whatever destination he had in mind. "Mikelo spilled that you were an executioner before you started wandering around."

"That is correct," Hans said.

"Arendelle, right?"

"Yes."

"I heard it's beautiful there. Weselton is a sight for sore eyes, too, but it's much too trade-oriented for my tastes. The people here always seem busy. Ever miss going back?"

He wasn't quite sure "miss" was the right word for it, but the desire was there. The man probably didn't need to know how much, exactly. It might tip off that there was something in Arendelle he wasn't willing to lose just yet.

"On occasion. As you've said, the place is beautiful." He never really noticed the kingdom's surroundings, actually. He was either too busy trying to conquer it, or appease its people... so he could conquer them. Wow, he was definitely a sociopath before Elsa came along. Still, lying was a skill he hadn't quite lost yet, and the casual small-talk came easily. "In all my travels, I haven't yet found a place as charming as Arendelle."

"Well, if you make the cut, you might be stationed there. I'm sure your knowledge of the kingdom would help whatever crew is assigned to Arendelle. If you are as skilled as you say you are in mingling among royalty, you might even be able to infiltrate the summit the queen's been planning."

Summit...?

Oh. The  _summit_. The summit that Elsa and Pieter agreed to organize to bring down the Order.

That... might complicate things.

"You say it's going to be in Arendelle?" Hans asked, thankful that he was unable to display an invested interest in the topic of conversation.

"Nah, I doubt it. The kingdom's been all but destroyed about a year ago," the Huntsman replied. "That's where people like you come in. Build some trust, get into the royal courts, find out where the summit is taking place. Then after getting a good portion of the royalty and nobility in one room, kill them all."

For the first time in months, a seed of dread planted itself in Hans' chest. Some masochistic side of him relished the negative feeling, because he finally  _felt_  something. There was a brief moment of clarity, of being able weigh in his decisions with his heart instead of just his head and guts that he tried to hold onto.

But just as he was reaching for a consensus between the three, the feeling vanished.

Oh well. At least it was confirmation that the emotions were still there. They were just  _really_  far down.

"May I ask why the Order of the Lynx is so intent on taking out the upper class?" Hans asked.

"My wife didn't tell you?" the Huntsman questioned.

"She didn't get the chance to. Said there were some loose ends she needed to take care of beforehand. She did say something about a 'Destoyer' or something."

"Hm. She  _did_  like to oversimplify things by giving things names like that. Well, the 'Destroyer' used to work for the Order. At the time, they went under the pseudonym of the Lightbringer. Had a unique skill when it came to social manipulation and the containment of magic, and was actually the one who trained many of us how to hypnotize others. They were even the best interrogator we've had, and with the influx of sorcery threatening our organization, they helped to nullify our enemies' abilities. So when the Lightbringer asked to do some research on new ways to draw information from people, no one thought much about it, even when they delved into unsavory practices later on. There are those in the Order of the Lynx that involved themselves into much worse, I assure you.

"To make a long story short, they did the exact opposite of their stated intent: with whatever knowledge or power they gained from their research into the black arts, they  _wiped_  our memories of much of their involvement in the Order and left. We no longer knew the identity of who they were. We didn't pursue the Lightbringer since it seemed like they were pretty harmless, and it was too much effort to retrieve them anyway. We would get close, and then it seemed like they knew our steps way before we took them because they would disappear without our knowledge. A frustrating process, especially if you didn't know the face you were looking for."

"So where does the 'Destroyer' come in?"

"That was… a newer development, actually. As you can obviously tell, not all memories of the Lightbringer was lost. We were able to piece together some parts of who they were: distant, isolationist, had a strong connection to magic; and strangely enough, they didn't want to marry. Why? Well, it's hard to tell. Now, those alone wouldn't make my wife call them the 'Destroyer.' The fact that they've retained their political status does. It was a mistake to let royalty and nobility in our ranks, because having learned the skill to hypnotize the masses and actually having the  _means_ to call multitudes to convene to listen to them?"

"They could destroy civilizations just by this skill alone."

"Hm, so you've got a decent head on your shoulders, too, eh? Well, as you can see, we've made some headway into our efforts of finding the Lightbringer. Thing is, they just continue to prove to be incredibly elusive, misdirecting our efforts somehow. So, we just err on the side of caution and kill whatever person fits the description."

"And how do you know you've killed him or her?"

The Huntsman shrugged in response, undisturbed and indifferent. "Doesn't matter to me, or many of us, really. All the gentility are getting involved with sorcery nowadays, it's just best to prevent another 'Destroyer' incident before it happens. If you ask me, they're just asking for it."

Distrustful of the supernatural. Noted. Was the rest of the Order sharing the same sentiment? The Huntsman's wife didn't seemed phased by it, even a bit excited. Whether she was an anomaly was yet to be seen.

"And here we are, hope you haven't gotten too accustomed to slumming it. The previous landowner lost a…  _heated_  negotiation not too long ago, and this is a new acquisition to the Order," the Huntsman said, herding Hans and the still-dazed Mikelo into an excessively decorated manor.

Ah. "Heated." As in the burning carriage was the "negotiation" the landowner lost.

Hans knew he should feel  _something_  about that realization.

Hm. Still nothing.

There was a swarm of people navigating their way through the foyer of the large dwelling, the busyness from the market-minded streets of Weselton mirrored in miniature inside – but much more intense in mood. It was as if each person walked with a purpose that would cause any normal person to cower away in intimidation.

"Ah, there you are!" exclaimed one of the bustling men coming from a nearby corridor. "Dragged in more than just my dagger, I see!" He eyed Hans up and down, quirking his head to one side questioningly at the lax form of the nobleman. "Ludoviko posing a problem again?"

"He almost blew the entire operation," the Huntsman replied.

"And who is this you've got here?"

"The wife thought he'd be a good addition."

"So he can get in good with the fancies?"

"He says as much."

"Well, we'll see about that soon, then. We're going to try tonight."

"Finally found a weakness?"

"The famous Duke of Weselton's paranoid security around his personal life certainly has merit to all the rumors circulating about. If we were able to get him before his trip to Arendelle two years ago, we might've run into fewer barriers. But now? Well, you know the rest."

"That I do." The Huntsman effortlessly hoisted Mikelo onto his shoulder from Hans. "If you need me, I'm going to Turpentine. Get her to reverse this before the informant becomes uninformed or however she says it."

The man continued to size up Hans with a scrutinizing eye, gazing lingering slightly on the sword in his possession before starting to circle around the prince. Before Hans could realize what was happening, the man tugged down the hood of his cloak and the scarf around his face, exposing him.

Hans lifted the sword defensively between the two of them, the man jumping away and holding his hands up in a placating manner.

"Whoa, whoa, easy there," the man said. "Just wanting to take your coat for you. It's really grubby and have you  _seen_  the place you've set foot in?"

The prince stared down the man, searching for any form of deception or recognition in his eyes.

Because how could an organization bent on taking down royalty not be able to identify a prince when they saw one?

…right?

But there wasn't any recognition in the man's eyes. Not even the rest of the bustling Order members stopped to see the commotion. It was almost as if Hans didn't exist.

It reminded him of how Klaus, Elias, and Aleksander taunted him all those years ago: no one would stop to notice a throwaway thirteenth prince.

"Hmph, and here I was hoping you weren't a pretty face," the man grumbled. "But I guess Madam Huntswoman isn't one to drag in just  _any_  stray. I guess once you get cleaned up, we'll debrief you. Do good enough, you might even get initiated."

"And just what am I getting myself into?" Hans asked.

"No one told you? Oho. Good sir, you're going to help us kill the Duke of Weselton."


	3. Unfortunate Reunion

As he moved as a unit with a group of assassins he was ordered to follow to the Duke of Weselton's estate and passed by a person, Hans tried to see any inkling of recognition in their faces, his cover easily blown if  _anyone_  in the entire plundered mansion suspected him to be more than a commoner. He held onto the hope that his father's and eldest brother's penchants for economic isolation helped to keep his identity relatively hidden due to his family being comparatively out of the public eye in relation to other royal households. Of course, just a tiny bit of general research would turn up that he was the thirteenth prince born of the late King Pieter Westergaard the First of the Southern Isles.

After all, it didn't take long for that one Order member he wasn't able to execute in Arendelle to know who he was. Strange how no one took the initiative to do so yet, especially after getting cleaned up and put into extravagant clothing for the Order's plans to infiltrate the duke's residence. They weren't as decorated as the garments he wore in the Southern Isles, nor as colorful as the uniform lent to him in Arendelle; drab grey and black seemed to be the height of fashion in Weselton. Certainly the assassins would have noticed that something was amiss about their "stray?"

Unless they already knew.

Hopefully that wasn't the case. The Order's involvement with hypnotism was indication enough that he  _didn't_  want to involve himself with these people as much as he was able.

At the very least, he hoped that they had underestimated him and didn't know about his curse. This theory also seemed likely, since they returned the scythe to him once he made it apparent he wasn't going to try anything with his "borrowed" sword. It was "just a scythe" anyway, it wasn't really a dedicated weapon like a sword or a gun.

They seemed confident that they could overwhelm him easily should he defy them, and they were correct in thinking so…  _if_  he were to rely on his own normal self for defense.

He also didn't want to have a repeat of the incident with Madam Huntswoman. While the two bullets that struck him weren't able to kill him, Hans definitely didn't want to spend hours trying to dig through bullet wounds to find embedded projectiles. Again. And just because he could, for reasons still unknown, heal miraculously from injuries that could kill a normal person — he was  _not_  immune to pain. In fact, sometimes his subconscious mind liked to replay the  _enjoyable_  (emphasized with all the sarcasm Hans could mentally muster in such a serious situation) experience of willing himself to dig through his own pierced flesh to dig out globules of lead as he slept, from time to time.

Yes, Hans was fully aware that he was giving himself fewer options as a means of escape from whatever madness he landed himself in by restricting any supernatural, magical involvement from the land. The foreign chuckling in his head as he mentally deliberated his situation helped to solidify his stance in the matter.

No use of his curse unless he was really,  _really_  desperate.

Of course, the only way to know desperation was to feel it; a fact that posed its own problems.

On the plus side, with all the adrenaline of trying to keep up with the Order's nefarious plans for him and trying to see if anyone was going to call him out, his extremities were able to keep from frosting over and freezing. It also helped that he was wearing proper gloves and boots for now, unlike the rags and worn-soled shoes he wore for a year.

"Alright, we're in position," said an Order member who went by the alias of "The Carpenter," the same man who greeted The Huntsman and Hans when he first made it into the current base of the Order. The group was situated just outside of the patrolling guards' rounds around the Duke's estate, hiding in the guise of night.

That was another peculiar thing Hans noticed about the Order of the Lynx. No one seemed to like to call each other by their real names for some reason, usually referring to each other by some occupation, movement tic, or weapon they kept around themselves. They even decided to call him "The Reaper" due to his obvious attachment to the scythe in his possession.

Boy, were they in for a surprise if they figured out how ironic their choice in nickname for him turned out to be.

It also didn't escape Hans' notice that Mikelo didn't have an alias. Hans didn't wonder about this for too long, though he knew he probably should, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

Like trying to act like he was a courier to a message that the Order intercepted that was addressed to the Duke of Weselton. How they were able to mimic an incredibly authentic-looking document from royalty definitely impressed him. Now, if only Hans could remember how a royal courier acted and behaved so he could play the part and  _hopefully_  save his hide from potential mind-manipulation later, all would go according to plan.

A plan he  _really_  didn't want to be involved in.

"Remember: get inside, find a weakness. Reconnaissance  _only_ , alright? His guard is already up, we don't want him to flee before we can get our hands on him," the Carpenter continued.

"It surprises me to note that with such a simple plan as this," Hans said, "and out of everyone you could have chosen, your team decided that an untried person who only  _says_  he's experienced in courtly graces is the best one for this task."

"Who says that we haven't tried something like this before? To be quite honest, we really just expect you to fail like the others before you in doing this exact same thing. The Duke is  _really_  perceptive when it comes to spotting uncharacteristic behavior from a courier, it seems."

"And as I've mentioned countless times during the briefing, infamy surrounds me among the higher class. What makes you think he won't recognize me?"

The Carpenter smirked. "Even better. Now go on. If you even so much as  _hesitate_  in delivering this message, you won't see the light of day. Fail, and you don't want to know what else we might have in store for you."

Which meant that Hans wasn't allowed to try to escape instead of following through with their plan. Not that he expected any different anyway.

Hans started down the grand cobblestone path leading to the Duke of Weselton's residence, letter in hand and scythe in tow. He found a suitable tree to lean the large harvesting sickle against, hiding it from immediate view.

A guard approached him, crossbow pointed at his chest in greeting.

"State your business," the bearded guard commanded.

Good, he wasn't one of the guards the duke had following him around back in Arendelle. He didn't recognize him.

"I come bearing a message for the Duke of Weselton," Hans replied with a formal tone.

"If you're bringing a letter, then leave it with me and be on your way."

That arrangement Hans couldn't afford to agree to.

"I'm afraid this message has to be hand-delivered to the man himself," Hans explained with as much sincerity he could fake, which wasn't very hard in hindsight. Years of practice and whatnot. "It is of utmost importance that I ensure this letter gets to him so I can report to my superiors."

"I've heard that story many times before, even more than usual what with the chaos around these parts, and each time your couriers turn out to be frauds. What makes  _you_  any different?"

Hans pursed his lips, considering his next words carefully. The guard appeared to value following his orders to their end, a loyalist to the Duke of Weselton through-and-through. Perhaps he could appeal to this side of him?

"I am a royal courier, and it is on my kingdom's honor that I see this message to its recipient personally, lest I defy my monarch's orders," Hans said at last, holding a serious and straight face as he had a staring match with the guard, hoping he was able to convey the fact that he could not be swayed in this regard.

The guard's hold on the crossbow slackened slightly, the nocked arrow pointing just a tad closer to the ground. He squinted his eyes suspiciously, but Hans knew that he finally was able to get to him.

"Alright, you seem to act the part," the guard said, "but if the Duke of Weselton says no, then all bets are off."

"Fine by me."

###

The Duke's estate was immense, its walls embossed with hand-carved elegant designs and decorated with large picture frames and maroon draperies. The wealth of the abode filled Hans' sight as he tried to take in his surroundings as he was led by the guard down a large hall. Servants and maids and butlers passed by him as they made their way around the place, attending to their duties. The sheer number of them astounded Hans, and he was coming from living a life in a castle made to accommodate his large, royal family.

Expensive. Expansive. Luxurious.

Lonely.

It was hard to pin down exactly  _why_  the place had an atmosphere of loneliness. Hans just knew that, despite the myriad of people that worked and resided in this place, he couldn't help but feel the pervasive air of isolation that hung about in the estate.

A curiosity that the prince had never considered would be in the home life of the Duke of Weselton.

It was possibly due to the fact that the hired help didn't converse with one another, or that they barely made any notion that they noticed the anomaly that walked with the guard in the halls with them. It wasn't that they weren't attentive to his presence. No, everyone appeared to be tense and on edge. It was like they were expecting Hans to do something terrible, but were too afraid that should they be the first to react, it could cause a cascading domino effect throughout the place and cause everyone to fall into a panic. The tension was  _definitely_  here.

"Wait here as I wake him," the guard said with distaste, "if only you had come at a better hour, perhaps he would be in a better mood, but as it is, I wouldn't keep my hopes up if I were you. In fact, he might even have my head for waking him. Let's just hope that whatever message your kingdom has for him is  _really_ important, or else you might be the first casualty as a declaration of war."

It seemed that Hans' day was filled with death threats. He must be accomplishing quite a bit if he were honored to have so many in such a short span of time.

Funny. As unfeeling as he was, he still was capable of sarcasm, albeit internally.

Hans nodded in agreement to the guard's words and took a proffered seat next to a set of large double doors that looked to be the entrance to a study. He took this moment to better analyze the letter he was under the pretense of delivering.

His heart skipped a beat when he noticed the seal in the wax keeping the letter closed.

The seal of the King of the Southern Isles.

Pieter…

It took all of Hans' willpower to resist tearing open the letter, to pore over his brother's writing with a thirst for any kind of word for how his family was faring. Were they shaken up over the destruction of Arendelle? How did they react to seeing Klaus? Did he say anything to them as it seemed he did with Elsa (because Hans definitely saw those lips moving but heard no sound from them).

What was Pieter even doing sending a letter to Weselton?

Behind the solid doors of the study, Hans could hear the muffled, grumpy tone of the Duke seeping through.

"Have I not told you that I will  _not_ be seeing any more messengers?" his peeved voice muffled from the wood. "That last one nearly got through security, and had I not caught the indiscrepancies in his actions, I would be nothing but a name on a tombstone!"

"Yes, but this one is different, sire," the guard could be heard saying in a milder tone.

"For all of our sakes, let's hope so, else we might have a repeat of the disaster my sister wrought. The Order of the Lynx seeks to ruin me because of her connections."

Wait a minute, the Duke of Weselton has a sister? This was news to Hans.

But there wasn't much time to consider this, the tapping of footsteps signaled the leader's approach. Hans stood from his seat, ready to face whatever reaction the short-statured man would have upon seeing him again.

The Duke stomped huffily, his immediate attention on the letter in Hans' possession, and snatched Pieter's words from the prince's grasp.

"Letter looks official, at least," the grey-haired leader stated to himself after scanning through he letter. "Bah, another request to join them in their meeting. Don't they realize that if I were to leave, it would appear that I'm hiding from the depravity the Order of the Lynx has brought onto my land? I can't let my people believe their leader is a coward!"

It was then that the Duke decided to have a better look at the carrier of the message.

He jumped at the sight of Hans. He recovered himself and pointed an accusatory finger at the "messenger."

" _You!_  Looks like they ended up making you run petty errands for your kingdom, hm? I presume you're here to try to take over Weselton — well you won't! I'm familiar with how you operate, and there is no means in which I'll allow you to overthrow me!

"For all I know, you might be influencing Arendelle and the Southern Isles to draw me away from my people, and leaving the government vulnerable to a coup in my absence. You might have even convinced the other countries to be your pawns to turn against me. No, I will not have it!  _I_  know how best to deal with the Order of the Lynx, and there is no way I will share these secrets to rulers when I have no certainty of knowing they aren't having their strings pulled by you or the Order."

"Slow down, I'm not here to overthrow you," Hans explained. Wow, this man was much more paranoid than Hans remembered him to be by jumping to preposterous conclusions. Perhaps the upheaval in the duchy did that to him? Or maybe Hans' treachery in Arendelle? Maybe both?

"Not so, you say?" the Duke accused, eyes searching for a lie that Hans knew wasn't showing on his face.

To the prince's surprise — or horror, it was hard to tell — the mustached leader's features softened in sympathy, eyebrows sinking slightly in weariness. His ire did not lessen, however.

"Ah, they've got your strings, it seems," he murmured, half to himself.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Hans said.

He couldn't have come to the right conclusion so quickly… could he?

Then again, the old man  _did_  toss about outrageous theories. And it seemed like it was one of the things that kept him alive so far. If the hearsay he gathered from the assassins had any merit, then the Duke was certainly knowledgeable in the ways of keeping the Order from infiltrating.

The memory of the escaped Order members when Anders went to visit Arendelle flashed in his mind.

Elsa.

She wasn't equipped with this kind of information. She was still a target. Hans' quest to rid of the Order wasn't turning out as well as he'd planned… and she was still vulnerable.

This infuriating man before him — as much as he didn't enjoy the thought of the Duke of Weselton being anywhere in close proximity to the Queen of Arendelle, especially when he threw around words like "monster" and "sorcerer" around to describe her — held the keys to help Elsa build up defenses.

And it looked like the only obstacle to help her attain this was to convince this stubborn man to go to the summit and share his methods of security.

"Don't play naïve with me, Prince Hans."

"A  _prince?_  I knew there was something amiss about you," came a voice from above. The gathered trio looked up, searching for the voice's owner.

A man of slight stature dropped from the rafters, landing on the guard and impaling a dagger into his neck, arterial blood spraying from the strike. The aged noble fell back in fear, scarlet spattering along his front. Hans' stomach lurched in response to the macabre scene that played before him, hands searching for an object he could use as a makeshift weapon.

The Duke gaped and stuttered as his mouth forming words but no sound escaping.

"Guar—!"

The assassin clamped a hand on the Duke's mouth to keep him from calling out for help.

"Why are you here? I thought the Order was looking for a weakness so they could strike later," Hans said.

"Saw an opportunity when they let you in, so I decided to follow," the infiltrator replied nonchalantly. "I fully intended to leave without anyone noticing to ensure you did what was requested of you, but knowing that we've stumbled upon  _Prince Hans?_ The very same man that executed my father?"

The Duke's eyes grew wide while Hans' stance shifted, ready to defend himself.

"I've executed many people in the past," Hans said nonchalantly. It wasn't like the news could move him any more than a single man pushing a mountain. "Who was your father again?"

"He was a pirate that went by the name of Thaddeus."

Thaddeus… wasn't he the one he killed, thinking he was Kristoff?

The moment of realization seemed to have indicated on his face somehow, because that was when the assassin forgot about the Duke and lunged at the prince, seizing him by the throat.

"You killed him," the man hissed. "He was the only family I had left."

"He deserved to die," Hans choked, hoping to bait the assassin into a thoughtless rage to draw out more time for himself.

Unsurprisingly, it worked.

The assassin gave an angry cry, shoving Hans against a wall and pacing back and forth. The prince had a hunch the man was about to start taunting them.

"You two are pathetic," the man laughed. "You are born with power, yet when it comes to a single man with a weapon, you two reduce yourselves into sniveling weaklings, unable to fight for your lives. The practice of 'talking things out' and 'diplomacy' have reduced you to nothing but soft hands and frail bones."

"Yet you believe you won't get out of here alive," Hans pointed out.

"No, but  _my_  team will continue without me. They think and operate just like me, and there's no place that we aren't able to sneak ourselves into." A haughty grin stretched his features. "And we know that you've acquired a fondness for the kingdom of Arendelle, even fallen in love with the queen. And— what was it that intel told me again? Oh, right. Your family seeks refuge there, correct?"

A dark feeling bubbled up in the prince's chest, warming and boiling whatever was left of his heart that hadn't yet frozen over.

"Oho, I made you mad, have I?" the assassin provoked further. "What are you going to do, kill me?"

A wicked, smooth smile flashed on Hans' face.

"Yes, actually," the prince said in a saccharine tone.

The dagger-wielding man quirked a confused eyebrow at the change in attitude before Hans punched him in the face with an uncovered hand. Shocked and annoyed at being caught unawares, the assassin lifted his weapon, ready to deliver a killing blow.

Only to collapse to the ground, writhing in pain as agony tore itself into his nerves.

A sense of satisfaction snaked its way into the prince's heart, continuing to warm the frozen wasteland it was just moments prior.

"W-what is this!?" the Duke cried out in terror, pressing himself against the wall farthest from the prince and his victim. "Guards! Help! Intruders!"

"If you considered Queen Elsa's magic to be sorcery, then you don't want to know," Hans replied, grabbing the tortured man by the shoulders and inspecting him. He turned to the Duke, likely appearing to be some kind of menace spawned from the darkest trenches of the earth at the unnatural phenomenon before him.

Fear had its uses. Maybe it would be enough to convince the Duke of Weselton to comply to Pieter's request? An idea started to form in his head.

"You will go to the summit," Hans said.

"What?"

"You're going to pretend that you killed this man, and I'll go back to the others to say that you are not to be underestimated."

"Ah-ah, but what if they double their efforts? They'll surely kill me then! I will not be coerced!"

"Then I'll just take care of them. Why are you having issue with this?"

"Because this is madness! I've already lost control over my people after having terrible trade relations with Arendelle — and not to mention the Sourthern Isles as well after your horrific grab for power — wait a minute, is this what it's all about? You're trying to take over Weselton after failing your treacherous acts in Arendelle! I won't stand for this, I won't let you make me into some kind of puppet whose strings you can—"

"You are overreacting. I  _don't_  want your position. To be quite honest, I've come to terms with the fact that political power is not within my grasp, so I've diverted my efforts elsewhere. Now, are you going to cooperate?"

"Unbelievable! First Arendelle wants me to participate in some 'summit' after hearing of my struggles trying to handle the Order of the Lynx's presence and saying that I have information that could help  _them_  handle the Order, which I will  _not_  attend since the queen is obviously involved with them in the first place—"

"You will go."

"I said I will n—"

"You  _will_  attend the summit, since your life depends on it."

"So you dare to threaten me again?"

"It is not a threat, so much as a statement of fact."

"Wh-what!? How dare—"

"Enough discussion," Hans iterated, taking the assassin's dropped dagger and pointing it menacingly in emphasis at the Duke. "You will tell everyone you deem worthy of such information that you killed him, and you will go to that summit. Oh so help me, if you do  _not_ , well, there is only so much bloodshed I can handle. Interpret that how you wish, I frankly do not care." With twist of the blade into the trachea of the wailing assassin, Hans silenced the man and held the dagger in place to ensure he was dead.

The aging duke gagged and gasped, turning away from the gore in front of him, shuddering in terror and disgust.

Eyes still averted, the short man heaved a disgruntled sigh of agreement and said, "You are as opportunistic and manipulative as ever, Prince Hans. One day you will regret this."

"And I will welcome that day with open arms. Now, cooperate and this will be over soon enough."


	4. Secret Shame

As promised, Kristoff made sure to bring Anna back before sundown, their one-on-one celebration ending on a quiet note with a relaxing walk in the castle garden at the suggestion of the queen herself.

The moon crept higher in the sky, the faint shadows cast by the grand castle of Arendelle stretching longer and sweeping over the curated foliage planted beside it. Kristoff and Anna strolled around it, winding down from being seen among the common populace during their anniversary date. While he had a more prominent place in the social sphere ever since dating Anna a little over two years ago, and was slowly learning his way around it, Kristoff found that he still preferred the moments where it was more private. Anna, on the other hand, loved every bit of being seen in public, and it was no mystery why considering that she was cooped up in the castle for a good portion of her life.

Being seen dating the Princess of Arendelle was one thing. Being  _married_  to her was something else entirely. It astounded him to notice how much people's attitudes changed once one married into royalty, mainly at how much it polarized the general public. Those who liked him before now adored him. Those who disliked him? Well, now they despised him. Something about being "unfit" for royalty. He tried not to think about the many reasons why people believed he shouldn't be with Anna. He was already discouraged enough, thank you very much.

As for those who were neutral? They weren't neutral anymore, to put it simply. They pitched their tent in either of the camps; no in-betweeners allowed, apparently.

Fortunately, those who didn't accept the union conveniently decided to stay at home as him and Anna were out and about. In other words, Elsa flexed her oft-unused monarch muscles for the couple to enjoy their anniversary without any interference from those that would bother them.

"Wait, wait, wait… a  _bear?_ " gasped Princess Anna as she pushed her husband around the castle garden on his wheelchair.

"Yeah. If it weren't for Sven and that dead tree, it would've been a different kind of story," Kristoff said, reminiscent and laughing lightly.

"Hang on, they needed a  _bear?_ "

"Crazy, right?" Kristoff said, a wide grin parting his face.

"I just… I don't understand why the trolls needed the bear… or how Sven or the tree helped."

"Hey, you wanted to know how I spent my eighteenth birthday. Specifics aren't something I could spare with  _that_  story. To be honest, I don't really understand what happened either. I just know that after that incident, they didn't question my ability to live on my own when I asked for it."

The young married couple laughed, their merriment accentuated by the blossomed flowers around them that swayed lightly by the oceanic breeze.

The pleasant atmosphere was interrupted by sharp cries of frustration heard in the distance.

Anna and Kristoff exchanged glances, confused.

"What was that?" Kristoff asked in a hushed whisper, training his ears so that he could hear where it might be coming from.

"You heard it too?" Anna said, mirroring the blond's volume. "I think we should go check it out."

"Anna, wait. I don't think that's a good id—"

Kristoff was interrupted by his wife carting him in the direction of the origin of the disturbance in the garden.

###

Wheeling her husband as soundlessly as she could, Anna tugged the wheelchair behind a topiary as she leaned around the foliage to get a better look at the mysterious person who would wander the night-covered garden shouting angrily at plants.

The light of the moon revealed a silhouette of a man sitting on one of the stone-slabbed seats with a large book in his lap, face leaning forward into its pages with a hand splayed out beside the tome, palm upward.

" _Tirah!"_ the man's voice boomed, and a wisp of light swirled from his open palm, sparkling away to nonexistence like a puff of smoke. The man growled in frustration and clenched his open hand into a fist. "No! That's not right either!"

The air around the princess and her husband started to pick up, a sudden blast of wind nearly knocking Anna into the foliage she hid behind. A thin crack of lightning flashed in the sky above them, streaking down to strike harmlessly onto the stone that the man sat on, causing him to jump to his feet in surprise.

Anna resisted the urge to scream, and slammed her hand onto her mouth to muffle she shocked gasp that escaped her.

The familiar voice and the brief illumination revealed to Anna who this mysterious man was. King Pieter.

Pieter was doing  _magic!_

"Is someone there?" Pieter called out in surprise as he slammed the book shut and tossed it hastily into a nearby rosebush.

Oops. Apparently Anna wasn't as silent as she thought she was.

 _What do I do? Gah! What do I do?!_ thought Anna frantically as she pulled herself out of view, eyes wide and flickering back and forth as she weighed her options. Her ears picked up the percussive steps of leather shoes displacing gravel approaching her hiding spot.

"I know you're there. Come out where I can see you!" Pieter commanded, a hint of apprehension in his voice.

Her mind a jumbled mess and unable to process the appropriate response in this situation, Princess Anna grabbed the handles of Kristoff's wheelchair and ran to the nearest entrance into the castle.

###

Elsa was in the middle of writing her new letter to Weselton, having difficulty trying to decide on the words since the Duke hadn't responded well to King Pieter's previous ones, and the latest letter hadn't yet received a response. It was safe to assume that the elderly man chose to ignore them. Or that he was too busy trying to get a handle of the chaos that plagued Weselton as of late.

She looked over her draft, checking whether or not her words could easily be misconstrued, when Anna and Kristoff spilled into her office. The red-haired princess slammed the door shut behind her as her mouth spouted an incoherent mess of sentences, frantic — or excited, it was hard to tell the difference when it came to Anna — about… magic in the garden?

While Queen Elsa had no qualms against Anna and Kristoff being wife and husband, and that they were free to do whatever they wished to celebrate their first year of marriage… she didn't really want to think Anna was talking about the, ahem…  _details_  of marriage better shared with one another,  _not_ a third person like herself. Before her confusion would only misunderstand Anna's long-winded explanation further, Elsa stood from her seat at her desk, shaking all uncomfortable thoughts of Kristoff and Anna "being together" from her mind before it got worse.

"Wait a minute, slow down," Elsa said, holding onto the heaving shoulders of her little sister, trying to get her to catch her breath so she could understand her better.

Anna didn't seem to get the memo and continued nearly unintelligibly with a single breath, "King Pieter was saying some word we didn't understand and then the wind started to pick up and then lightning appearing out of  _nowhere_  even when there wasn't a cloud in the sky and—"

"Hey," Kristoff interrupted, shaking the princess' arm lightly, snapping her out of her hysteria.

"Sorry." Anna shook her head and took a deep breath. "I think it's best you tell her, Kristoff."

Kristoff bit his lower lip and decided to be direct, "King Pieter knows magic."

"What?" Elsa said, eyes widening in shock.

"It reminded me of my family's magic, but it was… off."

"Hang on, you knew that it's troll magic?" Anna asked.

"I didn't really get a chance to say so since you tugged me around everywhere earlier, and I didn't  _say_  it's troll magic. It just— it gives off the same kind of vibes."

"And the magic he's using is 'off,' in what way?" Elsa questioned.

"It reminds me of when the younger trolls try to use a spell. It's like it's sloppy, or unpracticed, or something."

"So he's… new at it?"

"Maybe?"

"So what do you think we should do?"

"Confront him about it, probably?"

"Yeah, like he's going to be the most open person in the world after interrupting what definitely seemed like a private moment for him," Anna remarked.

"Hey, you never know," Kristoff said with a shrug of his shoulders.

###

Queen Elsa thought it best that they confronted King Pieter in private instead of having the family involved, should it turn out that he kept this information secret from them as well. Of course, they needed to  _find_  the man, first of all. He wasn't in the garden where Anna and Kristoff left him, likely getting spooked at having been discovered.

The three of them happened upon Prince Rasmus strolling in the hallways, as was his wont before retiring for the night ever since Prince Elias' death. The castle doctors had diagnosed his penchant to cease breathing in the middle of sleep as an apnea, and that physical activity before sleep would help prevent an episode. Whether or not their advice was working was yet to be seen, but the fact that Rasmus continued in this habit and incorporated it into his routine suggested that it  _was_ helping. Out of all the Westergaard siblings that found asylum in Arendelle, he was likely the one that held the most about how he really felt and thought to himself. Unlike the twins, who continued to be boisterous and fall into impropriety more often than not.

Having Hans' brothers stay in her castle made Elsa miss the youngest prince even more, especially since the family resemblance constantly reminded her of him, yet Hans couldn't be so  _opposite_  of them. He was certainly an outlier.

Queen Elsa snapped her attention to Prince Rasmus, trying to get herself out of thinking about Prince Hans.

"Good evening, Your Majesty," Rasmus said politely with a tilt of his head as he approached the trio, on his way to pass them by in the hallway.

"Good evening to you, as well," Elsa said in reply, making a gesture for him to pause his walking momentarily. He complied. "Do you happen to know the whereabouts of King Pieter?"

"Hm… at about this time, he's usually found in the gardens," Rasmus said.

"He's not there."

"Have you checked his bedchamber, then?"

"A servant says that he isn't there."

"Oh." A momentary hint of worry flashed in the prince's eyes, but was extinguished by the pervasive aura of boredom that lingered around Rasmus. He shrugged. "I apologize that I can't be of much help, then. Perhaps Magnus can help? He is the self-proclaimed bodyguard to the king, after all."

"Any idea where I could find him, then?"

"In the libraries at this time. He says the windows have a perfect view of the garden so he could watch over King Pieter without bothering him."

"Thank you."

###

Just as Rasmus had suggested, Magnus was found in the library, reclined on a chair and reading a book. And fortunately beside him was King Pieter, also engrossed in reading.

"There you are, we've been looking all over for you, King Pieter!" Anna said.

The king and prince looked up from their respective books, surprised at the newcomers into the room.

"Might I ask why?" Pieter asked, a tinge of nervousness in his tone. Magnus scrunched his eyebrows together and returned his attention to the tome in his hands, glancing up once in a while at the king and the royal family of Arendelle.

"Well, we ran into you in the garden earlier, and we just want to—" Kristoff started, but was cut off by the king.

"Prince Magnus, if you would so kindly leave the library."

Magnus whipped his attention to the king, book forgotten.

"I'm not going anywhere, Your Majesty. What if whoever killed Elias decided to come in here and—"

"I'm  _not_  going to repeat myself."

"These Arendellians have horrible security! If they can't keep two of their prisoners in the dungeons from being killed, how can they—"

"This is a private issue, Magnus."

The third-born prince clamped his mouth shut and put aside his reading material, and begrudgingly left the room, muttering something about being outside the door in case of trouble.

When the sound of the door clicked into place in its frame, King Pieter cleared his throat nervously before murmuring in a low tone, "So you were the ones in the garden with me earlier?"

"Yes," Anna said.

"And you saw… everything?"

"Yes."

At this, the king folded into himself, hands covering his face in defeat.

"So you're aware that I'm a sorcerer then," Pieter whispered. "I  _knew_  I should have been more careful, but I let myself be too comfortable here and I blew it." He looked up from his hands, fear evident on his face. "You  _can't_  tell my brothers. They never knew magic existed until you came along, Queen Elsa."

"Then why continue to keep it hidden?" Elsa asked.

"Because I don't… have the best control over the magic. It's terrifying, and sloppy, and doesn't have the best of outcomes whenever I use it. It's a curse that's been carried by my family for generations."

"So you weren't born with the powers?"

"I was but…" Pieter sighed in frustration. "Look, it's a long and boring story, and I don't want to get into it right now. Please promise me you won't tell anyone."

"We won't," Kristoff said in assurance. Elsa and Anna looked at the blond man in inquiry. "And maybe we can help you. Your magic reminds me of my family's."

"Your family… The trolls, correct?"

Kristoff nodded.

Pieter looked at his hands as if he were seeing them for the first time, lacing and releasing his fingers over and over in thought. He shook his head. "You can't help me."

"Why not?" Anna asked.

"As I said, it's a long story."

"Well, start from when Hans broke down the dining hall's door and the pixies came in," Kristoff suggested. "You said you didn't know why they were afraid of you; but you  _did_ know, didn't you?"

"I—" Pieter inhaled a shaky breath. "Yes."

"So you lied to us."

Pieter cowed his head down, ashamed. If one didn't know the man was a king, they would've assumed that he were a servant being reprimanded for not following orders. Well, to Elsa it sort of seemed that way.

"Yes. And then after the handshake Queen Elsa and I shared, I knew that I had to continue to keep it hidden. Her magic and my magic don't react well together, it seems."

"Why now, then? Why did you risk discovery tonight?"

"Because I needed to find out where Hans is. I found a book in this library that had a spell, and I thought that I could probably use it to find him."

"And did you find out?"

Pieter looked away. "No. I need more practice, it seems, and I'm afraid I won't let that happen. I can hurt someone."

Memories of being told her powers were dangerous flooded Elsa's mind. Of the consequences of having her abilities out of control. Of the constant fear of discovery. Of the shame and regret and self-loathing for hurting someone with her magic.

King Pieter sounded just like her younger self, a scared child. Never mind that he was almost twenty years her senior.

"We can help you," Elsa said, repeating Kristoff's offer. "Being scared of it only makes it worse, and it won't solve anything." A lesson she learned the hard way. Maybe she could help him avoid the same?

It seemed the words finally made their way to Pieter, coming from another wielder of magic likely made a greater impact since a look of weary, hesitant relief washed over his face when he refocused his attention to them. He gave them the smallest of nods.

###

Trying to talk a brick wall into moving on its own volition was much easier than trying to convince the old, stubborn "gentleman" to comply with Hans' plan, the prince decided. After all, the wall wouldn't try to talk back or spout outrageous conclusions about every little thing. Evidently, life was all a grand conspiracy for the Duke of Weselton.

Fortunately, the grand consensus was that Hans' ability to manipulate was more formidable an opponent than the Duke's stubbornness; if Hans had to hear just  _one more_ incomprehensible assumption, instead of having only one body to drag back to the Order there would be two. Which was saying something about how irksome the Duke was, because Hans knew that anger wouldn't have any influence in that decision.

And so, after the Duke dismissed the guards that responded after his cries of alarm and told them to let Hans return to the Order with the body as a "warning message" (as suggested by Hans), the prince was allowed to leave the premises, ensuring to pick up his scythe on the way out.

A tiny, quiet, almost-forgotten voice warned him of following the path he was currently on. That a good man wouldn't have made the choice to end another's life so easily. Or that manipulation shouldn't have been the first solution he should have gone to.

It was then Hans realized that he had killed the assassin with a dagger instead of having him sacrificed with his scythe. Prince Hans had just  _murdered a_ man, and he felt no remorse over it.

Should this chain of choices continue, what other atrocities would he commit?

" _At some point you'll be begging for an offer like this to cross your path again. After all, you want to avoid hurting those you love, correct?"_  the ominous words of Elias resounded in his head.

No, Elias was a charlatan. He couldn't  _possibly_ be a seer or a psychic. Hans was doing all of this to  _protect_  everyone he loved. He would never lay a hand on them.

Even being left without irrational emotions clouding his logic, he still wasn't able to convince himself that Elias wasn't what he claimed he was. Because he  _did_ end up hurting them. In the end, Elsa was wounded so severely, she wasn't even conscious when Anna made the order for him to leave.

After the disaster, was he allowed to go back? Did he even  _want_ to return?

As Hans approached the rendezvous point in the nearby woods surrounding the Duke of Weselton's estate, figures came out of the shadows of the trees. The Carpenter gave a small sound of displeasure at seeing the dead operative.

"I'm sure there is a good explanation as to why the Shadow is dead," the Carpenter said in a severe tone.

"He followed me in without my notice," Hans explained. "And the Duke killed him. He sent me out with the body as a warning to the Order."

"I knew the fool was always so opportunistic. Him and the rest of his team. Ambition will only get you killed in the end." The Carpenter looked at Hans suspiciously. "And how did you manage to get out unscathed? Did the old man suspect you?"

"He did, but I managed to convince him that I was only a pawn." Quite the opposite, really. Hans made himself look like he had more control over the events than he really did. Whether that was true or not, Hans wasn't waiting to find out.

"Ah. So." The Carpenter clapped his hands and rubbed his palms together. "Found any weaknesses?"

Oh. Right. Weaknesses.

He didn't exactly  _discover_  any, except the bits and pieces he managed to pick up.

Okay, so he didn't really find anything. Grasping at straws it was, then.

"The staff are on edge, perhaps causing a panic in the estate would give cover for anyone wanting to make a strike," Hans tried.

"Hm, yes. Well, anything else?"

"No." There  _was_  the whole sister thing, but Hans needed to keep the Duke alive for the sake of Arendelle and his family, so he wasn't going to divulge something that could ruin his plans in the future.

"Alright. Let's all retire for the night. We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

###

If Hans ever vowed that the last time he would find himself in prison was in Arendelle, it would be too soon. Apparently, as a part of "initiation" in the Order of the Lynx, a new recruit's first night was to sleep in one of the dank cells. Comparing between the dungeons of Arendelle and the makeshift ones in the Order's stolen mansion, the ones in Arendelle were more comfortable, actually.

He didn't have a cot to sleep on tonight. The fact that some of the members might have ill intent towards the prisoners didn't sit well with Hans either. They could very well unlock his cell and do whatever they wished to him in the name of "initiation." Whether or not that meant what he hoped it  _wouldn't_  mean, well…

He just might practice how to break down the cell door with whatever darkness that possessed him to do it back in Arendelle. It wasn't like there was anyone he cared about in this place. There was no real reason for the restraint except blowing his cover.

Oh, decisions, decisions.

The unlatching of his prison door pricked his ears in the heavy silence of the cells. Hans snapped his attention to the intruder, only to see the lumpy form of a man being tossed in the room with him before the door was once again bolted shut. It was then that Hans was glad the scythe was beside him. To protect himself, of course.

Strange. Not too long ago he would've dreaded that fact, wanting to avoid a repeat of his first moments upon being released from the Southern Isles.

The man groaned, muttering curses as he held his head, wincing as his hands met his cranium.

" _Aĉ, stelloj!"_ the man hissed.

Great. Mikelo was with him. Again.

"Brutes. The lot of them," Mikelo muttered. He raised his face, and his eyes lit up upon seeing Hans in the cell with him. "Did it… They actually fell for it?"

"Fell for what?" Hans asked.

"I told them that you found me annoying, and that I really didn't want to see you again. Reverse psychology works, apparently."

Hans humphed in mild interest. "So it's considered reverse psychology if I  _do_  find you annoying?"

"Hey, that's not fair. I try to be nice to you and all, and you go ahead and continue to be mean to me. I barely even know your name."

"You  _don't_  know my name."

"Okay, correction: I  _don't_ know your name."

"You don't know who I am, you are fully aware of what I am capable of, yet you still try to warm up to me for some reason."

"Isn't it obvious? Whatever side you're on will be the winning side."

"And after a year of traveling with you, I definitely know when you're lying to me, and that you have a strange idea of how to react to someone threatening to kill you."

Mikelo rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, propping his back against a wall as he sat on the stone floor. He quirked his lips to one side, thoughtful.

The nobleman reset his gaze upon Hans, determination and sadness lining his features.

"You remind me of a man I used to look up to," Mikelo admitted. "I miss him dearly." He chuckled softly to himself and raked both hands into his dark strands of hair with a fervor that hinted at how frustrated the count likely felt. "It doesn't help that you look and act just like him, too. I only know that you aren't him because he was much older."

Hans considered Mikelo's words carefully, knowing that whatever information that explained his strange behavior was finally coming to light.

While it was likely to have no use to him in the future, Hans reasoned that he didn't have anything better to do except wait for morning to come. It wasn't like he was going to have much sleep in the uncomfortable prison anyway.

"I guess he was the closest thing to a father to me, though it's a long stretched" the count continued, a slight rasp in his voice, almost on the verge of breaking. "My real father ruined the family name and reputation by gambling and racking up debts we couldn't pay. But he saved us by having my father sent to debtor's prison and ensuring the rest of my family and I would live comfortably in the countryside."

"What makes you think I'm as generous?" Hans asked, deciding to play along in smalltalk.

"Oh, trust me, you aren't. But neither was he. No, he was stern and serious and  _extremely_  private, and he imprisoned my father because the oaf started to desecrate the village with the burden of trying to keep up with his 'lifestyle.'

"Like you, there was this strange aura of charisma and charm that surrounded him, and he was able to act in ways that lowered a person's defenses by either scaring them into thinking they had no other choice, or being pleasant with them, making them feel like they were the most important person in the room."

Why did that sound so… familiar?

"I guess that's probably why he made a good king," Mikelo said, reminiscent wist distorting his voice. "Too good, in fact, that the Order wanted him dead."

Hans regarded the count for a long while, staring at him with a sudden realization screaming in his mind.

"What was his name?" Hans ventured, fearing the answer.

"King Pieter Westergaard the First."

His father. Of course.

For the first time in a long while, Hans was able to register the feeling of shock. It must have made its way to his expression, since Mikelo looked on at the prince in concern.

"Are you alright?" the nobleman asked.

"Well aren't you in for a rude awakening," Hans said.

"What?"

"Didn't it ever occur to you that, I don't know, perhaps I resemble him so much is that I'm one of his sons?"

"That's ridiculous. The Order's taken into account the whereabouts of all of his thirteen sons. Unless the king has illegitimate children, but that would be uncharacteristic since he loved his wife too much for that—"

Now it was the count's turn to gape in new awareness.

"No, no, no… that's impossible!" the count said, jumping to his feet and pressing himself further into the wall as if Hans was a ghost. "You're… you're supposed to be  _dead._ "

Okay, now this conversation turned even more confusing, if that was even achievable.

"Hold on… dead? Are you saying that you think you've been traveling with a corpse this whole time?"

"No, it's just… I don't get it! Prince Hans is dead, there's no question…" Mikelo trailed off, knitting his brows together in intense thought. "Right? But…" The nobleman hissed in pain as if the mere act of thinking ailed him. "I-if you're alive, but my memories aren't…"

The count paled, gaping his mouth in disbelief.

"They didn't…" He looked to Hans in confirmation.

"If you're talking about hypnotism, then yes, they did."

A small whine escaped from the count suggesting he was about to start crying. At that point, Hans had enough. He needed to change the topic before the man turned into an incomprehensible, blubbering mess. Sure, it was probably insensitive, something about his confession bothered him and he needed to know more.

"You said the Order wanted my father dead," Hans said.

Mikelo swallowed the brief display of weakness and responded, "To put someone else on the throne, one they thought they could corrupt easier like the king of Gavallande before they instigated the revolt."

"Well, it didn't look like they needed to since he died on his own."

The count shook his head vehemently. "No. He was poisoned."

_What?_

"You might want to recheck your memories on that one," Hans said in denial.

"No, I know this one was real. I was  _there._ Maybe since I wasn't around when  _you_  died — or  _thought_ you died — my memory could've been tampered with. But… the death of King Pieter… I was there. And I gave his son the poison to give it to him. He trusted me, and I used that against the king to get me in there."

Pieter was right. There  _was_ member of the Order among the thirteen of them.

"Do you remember who did it?" Hans asked.

Mikelo nodded.

"Yes," his voice croaked through unshed tears. "I didn't want to do it. I  _didn't!_ But the Order knew of my plans to defect from them, and they kidnapped my family, and they were threatening to kill them, and the time I believed that I would do  _anything_  to keep them safe—"

Hans didn't care for an explanation. There was a very real, very  _close_  threat to his brothers and Elsa, Anna, and Kristoff. He needed to know who it was to somehow warn them.

"Who did it?" Hans asked again, interrupting the blathering nobleman.

Tears started to streak down the count's face as he shook his head in despair.

"The one who'd gain everything if he died."

"Just tell me who!"

"His eldest son. Pieter."


	5. To Complicate Matters Further

Hans' eyes narrowed in suspicion, boring a dagger-like stare into the distressed nobleman, who continued to sputter and blabber on about how regretful he was in his involvement in the Order or in killing the Southern Isles' former king.

There was no way Pieter would ever do such a thing to any of the family, much less Father of all people. Being the favored child and having all of the privileges that entailed didn't make sense for that to happen. Pieter wouldn't really have much to gain in their parent's early deaths. And to join a clandestine organization such as the Order of the Lynx? Absolute nonsense!

Not to mention that Pieter's recounting of how the Order tried to recruit him and was subsequently denied (and later having his riding incident) didn't match up with what the count was trying to tell him. Someone was definitely lying, and it certainly couldn't be Pieter.

Now, if only Hans was able to convince himself that the liar was Count Mikelo. Wholeheartedly, at least. The man seemed way too distressed to suggest that he was trying to deceive him.

Hmm… perhaps the hypnotism was a lot more potent than either of them wanted to admit.

"…but they caught on that he was going to defect, and gave him an ultimatum as well. Two or twelve, and he had to choose two," Mikelo bumbled on, Hans almost ignoring this key phrase and writing it off as unimportant blathering.

"An ultimatum?" Hans asked.

"Like me, Prince Pieter — well, it's King Pieter now — didn't like the direction the Order was going and wanted to leave. But there's a saying we've got around here: 'Leave the Order, the Order never leaves you.' No one's able to get out of here unscathed."

"So you're saying that Pieter wasn't a bloodthirsty murderer like everyone else in this place."

"What? Of course not! No, he was far too noble and idealistic to do anything. But they recruited him, making him think that the Order was what the world needed like I used to think. And when he tried to leave…"

"I'm guessing they threatened harm on the family."

"Exactly."

Well, that was a relief. So Pieter hadn't fallen to corruption. He wasn't a danger to anyone and was just fooled into a situation he didn't intend. That also would explain why Pieter never outright admitted his direct involvement in the Order, since Magnus would never leave him out of his sights due to the obvious vulnerability to the king's personal security.

That is… if the count was even telling the truth. Why was he believing Mikelo, again?

Because you know in your heart that what he says is true, an inner voice said.

No, Mikelo was a deceiver. He was spying on Queen Elsa during the wedding ceremony. He was so good at deception, he even got Elsa to let her guard down enough to dance with him. Hans remembered the many denials of a waltz with the Queen during her coronation. Heck, even he himself only managed it after months of getting to know her, and that was even a private affair.

To think she'd allowed Mikelo anywhere close to her in just a few hours of meeting him? Sure, she likely did it to follow Hans' advice to enjoy the wedding celebration, but of all the people… why the count?

A subtle memory. Elsa giggling as the count whispered something to her. Something he said made her let her guard down.

To think he was doing the same with Hans was infuriating.

Or it should have been.

Hans was reminded of the ice in his heart when he felt the painful chill biting into his skin once more instead of the warm anger he would have felt at the fact that the count was possibly trying to dupe him.

A terrible idea popped into the prince's head.

Without warning, Hans pulled off a borrowed glove and seized the nobleman by the arm.

A look of betrayal danced across the count's face as he took in the uncovered hand that grabbed him before contorting into a visage of torture.

Now, was that considered a white-grey? Or a grey-white?

Hans let go of Mikelo, the latter groaning as he recovered from the onslaught of pain.

"What was that for?" Mikelo hissed.

"It's not of your concern."

###

"Do you think this is a spell?" Elsa asked, pointing to what appeared to be detailed pictures of people holding their head accompanied by ancient text she wasn't able to read.

"That's a remedy for headaches, Queen Elsa," King Pieter answered. "I think you have an old book on medicine, Your Majesty."

"Really?" She flipped through the tome and saw grotesque drawings of the human body in varying stages of decay. She quickly shut the book in disgust.

It was late into the afternoon, the echoes of servants speaking to each other reverberated into the library from the halls. Queen Elsa and King Pieter were alone in the room, trying to develop the king's magical abilities as the queen had promised she would aid in doing. Anna and Kristoff were likely keeping the rest of the Westergaard brood distracted with some activity in the town as she had requested. In the meantime, the two monarchs were looking for simpler spells for Pieter to practice before moving up in difficulty like the spell he found to try to find Hans. It was day four of their search, and they had yet to show any progress.

"I don't think you have any other books on magic except for the one I was using the other night," Pieter said.

"May I see it?"

He nodded and went to a nearby shelf and pulled out a thick book, handing it to her gingerly.

The leather cover of the book was old and worn from age, the pages discolored along its edges. She opened the book, scanning its contents, seeing symbols and letters she didn't recognize. She paused at a picture and recognized the scene it was depicting.

"Trolls," Elsa said breathlessly. This was the book her father used to track the magical beings down after the time she struck Anna with her powers as young children.

"So Mister Bjorgman was correct," King Pieter said in disbelief. "It  _is_  troll magic."

"But that doesn't explain why we have adverse effects to each other's magic. I've never experienced any problems whenever I went to visit them. In fact, they helped me to develop my own abilities when I was struggling."

"Then perhaps it's just… similar?"

"That's also a theory we're working with."

Pieter sighed and took the book back from Elsa when she handed it to him. "At this rate, we'll never find my brother."

"Don't say that," Elsa said, not wanting to entertain that possibility. "What about Prince Niels in the meantime?"

At the reminder, the king's disposition lightened. "He should be on his way to Weselton to meet with the team you sent by now. We should be getting a confirmation letter within the next few days." A somber expression once again took hold of his face. "I can't lose another one. As much as I want Hans back home, I fear that I'm putting Niels in a dangerous situation. What if… what happened with Klaus…" He shook his head. "No, I need to get better at this spell."

"Do you want to try again?"

"Yes, though perhaps in a location that wouldn't mind suffering a bit of damage."

###

"What do you mean he's missing?!" the Carpenter exclaimed to the gathered Order members in the room with him.

"I don't know!" a fearful Order member said, crumbling under his gaze. "I-I just turned away for a moment, and then the next thing I knew, he's gone!"

"You imbecile! How could you lose someone who's as high-profile as the Duke of Weselton?"

It was a heated meeting in Hans' opinion, to say the least. After his  _lovely_  initiation period in the cell, he was assigned to a much more comfortable room.

Well, as comfortable as it would ever be having been officially assigned as Mikelo's caretaker. A "perk" he now held as an assistant to the Carpenter.

Joy of joys.

"Are none of you capable of fulfilling my orders!? Hm!?" the Carpenter shouted to the occupants in the room. The prince was more of a bystander in this situation, since he wasn't involved in the night patrol of the Duke's estate, so he couldn't help but feel a faint sense of amusement at seeing the assassins squirm under the berating.

The frustrated Order member turned to one of the trembling agents and commanded, "Bring me my box."

He complied and left the guilty man gaping like a fish out of water.

"W-wait, please!" the accused person sputtered, dropping to his knees and pleading in an undignified manner to the Carpenter when the box was handed to him. "One more chance, just one more!"

"No, you've faltered too many times," the Carpenter said as he unlatched the box and pulled out a nail and a hammer. He inspected the tools, then said to Hans and another Order member beside him, "Hold him down for me."

Both did as they were asked, though Hans was a bit more hesitant since he wasn't sure what was going on.

The Carpenter brought the nail to the side of the restrained man's head, the point pricking a drop of blood to flow out of his temple.

Oh. So  _this_  was why he was called "the Carpenter."

Hans shut his eyes, the man's sobs the only sound reverberating through the room. Part of the prince told him that he needed to be disgusted. Another told him to be terrified.

But for some reason, there was a louder side that wanted to chuckle at the man's impending demise.

"Wait, wait!" the crying man pleaded, trying to wrench himself away.

Hans knew he should let him go.

…so why wasn't he?

At that moment, the prince was an unseeing, unfeeling statue. He only opened his eyes when the clank of the metallic hammer hit the flat head of the nail, eliciting a sickening crack of bone from where the point delved into skull matter. And even then, he didn't sate his sadistic curiosity to see the state of the man.

Hans figured that he was actually quite fortunate that when he himself needed to kill, it was a lot less…  _messy._

The Carpenter cleaned the blood off of his hammer and set it back into its box.

"Reaper," the Carpenter said to Hans while gesturing to another Order member to remove the body.

Hans hated that nickname. Distasteful. Corny. If only they knew.

"Yes?" the prince answered.

"Since I just got rid of the guy I needed to take care of this next order of business, I'm assigning it to you, rookie. You did pretty good with trying to scope out the Duke of Weselton's estate, though it's a shame your intel wouldn't be put to use in the end. It's another high-profile target that needs a  _delicate_  hand."

"And what is this task?"

"A team of bounty hunters from Arendelle arrived a few days ago. While this in and of itself is nothing too out-of-place considering that Weselton tends to draw these mercenary types, it has just come to light that they had a rendezvous with Prince Niels Westergaard of the Southern Isles before the dawn broke. I'm going to need you to see why he's here. And then I'm going to need you to kill him. With as little…  _publicity_ as possible, do you understand?"

Arendelle…?

Niels was…

What was Elsa doing? Why was his brothers getting involved? Niels was not a tradesman, nor was it normal for him to hang around swords-for-hire. Why would he be in Weselton in all places? It was hunting season in the Southern Isles, and Niels was supposed to be the one leading the hunt for the next few weeks. They needed their best tracker—

That meant that they were looking for him.

Why? Why would they after he destroyed practically everything in Arendelle?

Realizing that he was taking too long to respond, Hans nodded in acknowledgement to the Carpenter and walked out of the room. The atmosphere about the place took on a sudden stifling air as he made his way through the maze of hallways to his quarters.

By the worried look Mikelo gave him upon entering the room, the prince supposed his dilemma about the news was showing on his face.

"They want me to kill my brother," Hans said, inflectionless.

"Are you going to?" the nobleman asked.

"Of course not, but the Carpenter's likely going to need confirmation of a kill or else I'm going to end up with a nail in my skull."

"Then what do you plan to do?"

Hans shrugged, faint ideas of a plan just out of his grasp. "Depends. Are you any good with face paint?"


	6. In Which a Plan Works Well

"To think that you are the son of someone I consider the epitome of brilliance," Count Mikelo grumbled from his perch on a rafter in the abandoned, dark warehouse. "This doesn't sound like a plan to get out of the Order's clutches, or to destroy them like you promised a while ago. No, this is stupidity at its finest, Prince Hans."

Hans peered out the rickety doors of the warehouse into the forest that surrounded the outskirts of Weselton.

"Just make sure that you get a good look at him," Hans instructed, ignoring the bait to argue with the nobleman.

"If I weren't so afraid of you, I'd just cut my losses and run."

"And then you'd get dragged back to the Order and be their mindslave."

"You see? I lose either way.  _Steloj min gvidas._ "

"Out of luck there, too, Ludoviko. It's the middle of the day. Last I checked, stars aren't out when the sun's out, too."

Hans heard the faltering thuds of footsteps in the rafters. Mikelo seemed to be surprised by his statement for some reason.

"You understood me!?" the count exclaimed.

"The whole time."

"How?"

"It's called education. I'm sure you've had some considering you and I can communicate with each other just fine."

"Why—"

"Political reasons, Ludoviko. Hush, I hear horses approaching."

"If we end up dying because of this, just know that I protested this idea and that it's all your fault."

"Noted."

Hans slunk further into the shadowed recesses of the warehouse, pulling the hood of his cloak that he was able to retrieve from the terrified handmaid tasked with washing it.

It disgusted him how many people were stuck serving the terrible people of the Order of the Lynx. There were no restraints put on them, but considering the Order's proclivity for hypnotism, Hans would bet that the choice to run was not at option that they felt they had.

Funny. Not even a year ago would he have imagined that he would resort to killing for his family of all people. For  _Elsa_ of all people.

After all, he intended to kill her at one point.

Not even a moment after he pulled himself out of view, the thundering hooves of horses grew louder. The barking of hunting hounds accompanied the search party.

Out of the clamor came the distinct voice of Prince Niels.

"Hush!" his brother commanded. The barking stopped, and the clopping of hooves slowed. "Heel!"

"What is it, Your Highness?" a female voice said. Hans deduced it was one of the bounty hunters that travelled with the elder prince.

"Footsteps, over there," Niels said. "Two sets. One matches the gait of my brother. Keep an eye out for another. This might be a trap. These prints are recent."

Good. Niels was as talented at tracking as he ever was.

Steps dispersed around the perimeter of the rickety warehouse.

"Hans?" Niels called out. "Are you in there?"

"Yes, Niels, I am here," he said. "Why don't you come inside? I've been expecting you."

"I think it's best I stay out here."

Hans presumed as much and opened the double-doors to the entrance of the warehouse. A flood of light rushed into the room as Prince Niels came into view. He was in the perfect position for Count Mikelo to get to work. The faint, telltale scratches of pencil on parchment from the rafters told Hans that the nobleman was working according to plan. From behind, a cascade of swords being drawn echoed throughout the warehouse.

The bounty hunters had found the other entrance.

Hans raised his hands in surrender in response, staring down his brother for a reaction.

Except… was Hans feeling…

Scared. Guilty. Angry.

Love.

He was  _feeling_.

The realization caught him by surprise. The ice in his limbs slowly retreated, returning back to the warmth he once knew.

To his horror, tears started to well up in his eyes as he locked gazes with Niels.

Why, oh why did he have to miss him now? Of all the times to break down, why now? Why during a delicate moment that hinged on everything going according to plan?

"Oh Hans…" gasped Niels. "What… what happened to you?"

Hans' script in his head was dashed. Gone. Nothing but the intense desire to rush up and hug his brother after months of being surrounded by unfriendly faces and attempts at his life. His plan relied on his ability to keep straight face to sell the act home.

He couldn't even do that part of the plan.

But he still needed Niels out of Weselton. Or else the Order might get to all of them.

"I've changed, Niels," Hans started. He shambled together a persona, one he really didn't like to use even before his time in Arendelle.

Hans smiled at his brother, making sure to sob at the right time to ensure his brother thought he was losing it. It probably helped that the smiles and sobs were genuine, though not in the context that he was trying to convey.

"I'm here to take you back home, Hans," Niels said, slowly inching away from him.

Perfect. Niels was falling for it.

"I don't want to go back home, Niels," Hans responded. "The Order has offered me everything I've ever wanted and more."

"The Order… of the Lynx?"

Hans nodded.

"You can't be… No, Hans! Please tell me you aren't involved with them!"

"Aren't you wondering why the Duke of Weselton wasn't here to address your arrival? They thought my skills needed to oust him. I happily agreed."

Lies. Hopefully once Niels relayed this "news" to the others, they would find that out. Niels would fall for the falsities, but Anders wouldn't. Aleksander wouldn't. Hopefully Elsa or Kristoff wouldn't. It killed him to imagine how hurt they would be, how disappointed in him if they believed for one moment that all they did for him was for naught.

"Oh my God," Niels gasped. "No, y-you didn't." He continued to inch away from Hans.

The thirteenth-born crept closer to the eighth-born. The points of swords dug into Hans' back.

"And now, they want me to kill you. Weselton has fallen to the Order. The Southern Isles and Arendelle will be next."

Because that's where their interest was focused on, right?

"Hans, whatever they're giving you, whatever you  _think_  they can give you, please… none of it is worth losing everything you already have," Niels pleaded. "You're only going to get hurt in the end.

"Think of Elsa. She's been looking for you ever since the wedding ceremony a year ago. She hasn't been the same. She just wants you safe in Arendelle. According to Pieter, her spirits have been gravely subdued. Her people distrust her, her kingdom is in ruins, and all she wants is everyone she holds dear to her to be near.

"You know I rarely leave the Southern Isles, especially due to my wife and children. It's the start of the hunting season, and the predators are threatening the farms and livestock. Not to mention that Holger is finding it difficult to find people he trusts with running his hospital when he's running the kingdom for Pieter while he's away. But everyone is desperate to find you, little brother. We need you home."

Hans had to shut his eyes to hide the pain he felt at hearing about how poorly everyone was faring. He willed the cold, numbing feeling to take over his heart as he looked upon his brother again.

All this effort to find him. All this desire he had to just fall in Niels' arms and have him take him back to Arendelle so the nightmare would be over.

Unfortunately, they needed to suffer a little bit longer. The danger was still there.

And heavens knew what Hans would do if that danger so much as looked at his friends and family the wrong way.

Numb to emotion and resolute in his intentions, Hans curled his lip into a half-crazed smile as he stepped away from Niels, feeling the swords at his back digging into his skin. He pulled off his gloves and flexed his fingers.

Interesting. Warm blood running down your back while your skin was icy cold made it all the more unpleasant. Hans had to resist the urge to shiver away from the swords. He needed to leave no doubt in Niels' mind that Hans was not a person that needed to be rescued.

That Hans was not  _allowing_  himself to be rescued.

"Over my dead body," Hans said.

"Hans," Niels cautioned, reaching out. The younger continued to distance himself, the swords at his back folding away as their wielders realized the damage they were doing to him.

Hans reached out, calling forth his scythe into his open hand. Niels' eyes widened in fear as the elder brother leapt back, the distance between the two siblings an indicator that Hans' plan had succeeded.

After all, a Westergaard had already died to the same scythe before. Niels had every right to fear him right now.

" _Peculiar how much you're willing to sacrifice for those who have wronged you gravely in the past,"_ an unwelcome voice rumbled in Hans' head. " _Your efforts will only lead to disappointment."_

The land. Lovely timing as always.

Before his resolve could crumble, Hans lunged for Niels and barreled him to the ground, pinning his older sibling down by his body weight and ensuring that he was incapacitated by the otherworldly glow of his brother because of the pixie's curse.

He clamped a hand on Niels' mouth to keep him from screaming out in agony. Hans knew if any unfiltered sound from Niels escaped, well… enough said.

"Prince Niels!" one of the bounty hunters cried out.

"If any of you move, he's going to get it," Hans growled, the scythe's blade flashing in warning. He wasn't in the best position to kill Niels anyway, nor was he intending to kill his brother, but they didn't know that. Nor should they, if his plan was working.

He waited. Seconds went by, and no one moved a muscle, save for his brother who struggled against him.

It was never like this. Hans was always the younger, weaker sibling. Always the one who lost in physical altercations with his brothers. With words and wit, he often won. Brawn was never his forte. Niels was perhaps the strongest out of all thirteen of them and even trained the soldiers back in the Southern Isles before he settled down and had a family of his own. Not a skilled swordsman like Magnus, Niels was more of a brute with fists like iron.

It shouldn't have been possible to best Niels so easily, even if he was caught unawares. After all, Hans was the one who languished in prison cells, and the hardest physical labor he faced was those in the harvesting fields and horse stalls.

No, Hans shouldn't be this strong.

Was Niels caring for himself properly? Or was there something happening to Hans?

It wasn't long before Niels lost consciousness from the lack of air, and Hans lightened his hold around his throat to let him breathe.

Raising a fist, Hans signaled Mikelo to enact the next part of the plan.

A whoosh of rope whipped through the rafters and the cracking of wood rumbled through the floor of the old warehouse. Hans hoisted the limp form of Niels in his arms and leapt through the open doorway of the building as the floor gave way, causing the bounty hunters to fall in a heap to the basement below.

He knew they would survive the drop, since he ensured that there was enough hay to cushion them. He also knew it would take them a while to escape since he demolished the stairs and ladders that would bring them back up to ground level. With a little bit of observation, they'd find the spare ladder hiding underneath the hay to make their getaway and hopefully realize that Hans wasn't trying to kill anyone.

But the ruse wasn't over yet.

A faint grunt of effort echoed from the rafters of the warehouse, and a few moments after, Mikelo landed on his hands and knees on the ground beside Hans from swinging on a rope from above.

"This plan is stupid," Mikelo complained again, dusting himself off.

"Just help me carry Niels," Hans instructed. "You got a good look at him, right?"

###

Queen Elsa and King Pieter found the castle garden to be the venue of choice for working on the spell. Not the most ideal location, not by a long shot, but it was much better than risking damage on the irreplaceable books in the library or priceless mementos of ancestors found throughout the castle. Only the plants were in any real danger, and those would just grow back in time.

While the magical displays from Pieter were rather terrifying, namely due to his inability to wield his powers properly, Elsa found them intriguing to study as an observer. Having powers herself, it was difficult to witness her own abilities at work from a distance. She supposed the only other display of supernatural abilities she'd witnessed was during the destruction of Arendelle, but that was the land channeling itself through Hans and she was more concerned at stopping him than wanting to watch.

It was interesting how differently Pieter's worked. Words were involved with very little physical movements; unlike Elsa's which could be a very silent display. It seemed like Pieter was struggling with trying to get even a hint of magic to work, the words always fumbling from his lips and enunciating them differently each time.

From what she saw, Elsa wouldn't have considered Pieter's abilities related to the trolls. In her memories from childhood, and even adulthood, Granpabbie would conjure images and evoke nature with a flick of his wrists like she would; effortless and graceful.

It was only when Hans arrived in Arendelle to seek their help where the chanting and magic words were involved. Perhaps this was what Kristoff was alluding to earlier?

And just like that first time she heard the land speak through Hans, the feeling of something…  _dark_  and…  _unnatural_  being at work whenever a little spark of power flickered at Pieter's fingertips made her uneasy.

Her memory brought her back to that first handshake she had with the king, how it discomforted the both of them.

It can't only be coincidence, could it?

After all, no one knew the kind of powers they truly were dealing with.

"King Pieter," Elsa said after another failed attempt by the king to get the spell to work, a sudden blast of wind knocking him over.

"Yes, Queen Elsa?" Pieter said after brushing the dirt from his knees.

"How did you find out about your abilities?"

Pieter looked to the floor, a conflicted look on his face.

"It's not a story that I'd like to bore you with, Queen Elsa," he responded.

"By all means, don't feel that way. If you want, I can share how I found out about my own powers. It's just as boring of a story as yours. Perhaps even more so."

King Pieter looked to the book in his hand, his face blank.

"I'll just try one more time, I think I almost have it," Pieter said. "Afterward, I think I'll take a break and we can share stories."

Elsa nodded, stifling the sense of unease she knew would accompany another attempt.

Pieter's expression changed into one of intense concentration, the unknown language sounding like an ancient echo that reverberated through time and space to be spoken in such a way again.

" _Amh'skelajas,"_  Pieter inflected, his eyes unfocused.  _"Alai lejiras. Jovai alajin lajirasin. Skeliras tirah!"_

Elsa's eyes grew wide as the winds around the two of them swirled with purpose, a disc of light hovering above them.

A spark of lightning crackled through the air and struck her in the head, and her vision went dark. There was no pain or discomfort, just darkness before her sight returned. Slowly through a field of sparks, then all at once.

She looked around and found herself in a port city.

Weselton.

The next instant, she found herself in a forest clearing, an old and rickety warehouse before her. Just inside the doorway, she saw a man dressed in the colors of the Southern Isles. Prince Niels, most likely, according to his brother's description of the eighth-born.

Some movement in front of Niels, a figure covered in –

She knew that cloak. She  _made_  that cloak.

Hans.

"…we need you home," she heard Prince Niels' voice in the distance, ethereal.

"Over my dead body," came Hans' voice, a deep and sinister echo chorusing his words.

She saw Hans tackle Niels to the ground, that wicked scythe in his hand, glowing.

Elsa wanted to reach out to Hans but found herself rooted in place. She couldn't believe what she was seeing, the horror of watching him carry out such deplorable acts against his own brother causing her to look away.

She opened her eyes and found herself back in Arendelle.

"I'm assuming by that look in your eyes, you saw what I just saw," King Pieter said.

Elsa nodded slowly.

"Prince Niels found him," she said. "In Weselton."

"Neither of them appeared to be faring well," he said.

"No, they did not."

Pieter stared off into the distance, his mouth set in a thin line. Then, "I'll send a letter to his family."

It grieved her to say her next words. It felt like giving up. It felt like she was just going to toss away every effort they've put forth up to this point.

But it wasn't giving up. They found him. The search was over.

"I'm calling off the search," Elsa said.

"Queen Elsa, do you believe that to be a wise decision? I don't believe someone as dangerous like that should be left to their own devices."

"I believe the same, which is why I'm going after him myself."


	7. Choices

Carrying Niels to Weselton's docks proved to be an interesting challenge. Despite Mikelo's constant assurances to Hans that he was  _not_  a native to Weselton, his ability to navigate the streets of the seaport city they were in was… rather revealing, if Hans were to be completely honest with himself.

Mikelo knew the routes the merchants would make and thus the three of them should avoid those, which alleyways were relatively free from the prying eyes of people, where guards were often posted and how they made their rounds. Hans also made note of the fact that they avoided the direct view of rooftops, likely because Mikelo knew that some Order members would be around there. A simple informant? No, not with the other skills the count possessed.

They crouched low behind a pile of empty crates with the unconscious form of Prince Niels. Mikelo pressed a few fingers against the pulse of Niels' wrist, giving Hans a light nod that Niels was still fine.

Hans didn't exactly trust the nobleman to relay the status of his brother's life, but considering he himself couldn't do it with his gloves on, it was the best he could do.

"You weren't just an informant when you joined, were you," not a question from Hans so much as a statement of fact.

Mikelo looked to the wall of the alleyway they were hiding in.

"I used to be higher up, much like the Carpenter, but before the Order's intentions were known to me," the count replied. "Because of this, I assigned people to watch over my family while I was away doing reconnaissance for them, going around as an artist for royal families. Then when your brother and I found out about their treachery, they threatened great harm on his siblings if we didn't go with their plan to instate him as the new king of the Southern Isles. I didn't know they would go behind my back, the people I assigned to protect my family… they ended up being their kidnappers in the end."

Mikelo went to grab for the limp form of Niels, ready to make their next move towards the docks. Hans did the same.

"Whatever you do, Prince Hans," Mikelo said. "Whatever mess we're going to get into through this plan, promise me that if they make me turn on you or my family, I give you my express permission to kill me. My worth to the Order is diminishing, that much is apparent."

Hans only nodded, a silent promise to follow through.

"This is the ship," Hans said, recognizing the vessel from its distinct outline of the designs of the Southern Isles. It was empty, likely due to the crew being on land to resupply and relax from the voyage, though Hans knew there were a few people on board to ensure nothing bad happened to the ship. They didn't appear to be on deck.

Except…

There was one person, leading an animal by its reins atop the wooden deck of the ship in circles. A horse.

"Sitron," Hans whispered.

"Lemon?" Mikelo asked, confused.

"No, the name of my horse."

"Ahoy there!" the man leading around Sitron on the deck bellowed in greeting. The man's jaw gaped at seeing the limp form of Prince Niels and had to do a double-take when he recognized Prince Hans. He called for the others on the ship below deck as he tied off Sitron to the rail on deck.

The other deckhands emerged from the depths of the vessel, similar reactions upon seeing the state of the royals.

"What happened?" a deckhand said.

"There was an accident," Hans lied. "You need to bring him to the Southern Isles immediately. I'm going back for the bounty hunters that were with him. I'll sail back to Arendelle with them."

The shipmates took the unconscious prince below deck. Hans had no doubt they believed his farce.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Mikelo asked.

Hans stared at the doorway that the deckhands took his brother through, half wanting to join them and forego the plan.

He shut his eyes.

"Yes," he responded. "We didn't get this far to make a change of plans." He looked to Sitron, who shook in excitement upon seeing Hans. It felt like it had been an eternity since they saw each other last. "Though I believe I can make room for an additional accomplice."

###

Keep them away from the castle, Elsa had instructed them. Kristoff and Anna had to resist the urge to roll eyes at the headache that would likely turn out to be considering how well they were able to "behave themselves" in the privacy of the castle, but they didn't take their role in finding Hans lightly. If the king thought it best the others didn't know about his magical abilities, then so be it.

Kristoff had the option to help out, since he was the one who had a bit more experience with troll magic, but to leave Princess Anna alone with the misbehaved Westergaard siblings? Never mind that he wasn't able to walk anymore. He'd defy all medical science and get up off of his chair and set those "men" straight if they so much as  _asked_  her the wrong questions. After all, he wasn't a violent man, so that was saying quite a lot.

At the very least, it seemed that in public they knew how to watch their tongues. Sort of.

"I must say, your kingdom's ability to rebuild from so much destruction just a year ago is quite astounding," Prince Magnus said, admiring a peach from a market stall and giving the woman who attended it a few coins as payment for the fruit. He bit into the peach and wiped a bit of the juice from the corner of his mouth.

"They've been through a lot over the years," Anna responded. "If anything, they've proven again and again that they've been nothing but resilient people. Elsa and I can't ask for better people to serve."

"If it weren't for you two–" began Prince Jakob, but was interrupted by nasty looks from Magnus, Aleksander, and Kristoff.

"Shut up, Ib," Prince Christian chided and jabbed his twin in the ribs with his elbow. Prince Jakob winced and rubbed at the new bruise forming.

"My apologies, Princess Anna," Jakob said. "Ignore my slight."

Princess Anna rolled her eyes and continued to push Kristoff through the market square of Arendelle. She remained silent.

"Thank you for letting Rasmus help out at the hospital," Prince Aleksander said. "I know you don't completely trust him, but the work is really helping him get over Klaus' and Elias' deaths. He's… definitely taking it a lot harder than the rest of us, even though he doesn't show it."

"It's nothing," Anna said, her voice a little strained from what Jakob was about to say. She cleared her throat. "I'm just glad he's enjoying the work he's been given. I can't stomach any of the stuff he's doing on a daily business."

"Do… you think we'll be able to find Hans?" Aleksander asked. "I can't… it's just… losing two brothers within a few months of each other… I don't think…"

Kristoff and Anna exchanged glances. Kristoff was pretty sure they would, but the means of finding him would bear explanation. That is, if the spell worked as it was supposed to.

"We'll find him," Kristoff said.

"What if he's already dead? What if all those clues of his whereabouts weren't–"

"Don't talk like that," Magnus interrupted. "I say if they haven't found a body, he's not dead."

"What about Niels, Magnus?" Christian said. "Shouldn't we worry about him, too? He's going to  _Weselton_. Last I remember, the Southern Isles isn't exactly on great terms with them. Not like Arendelle, but… maybe even worse."

"Let's just change the topic," Magnus said. "We're here to compile a report of how the trade is doing in the town for Queen Elsa, not to have a heart-to-heart session displaying all our insecurities."

"What, aren't you concerned for either Hans or Niels?"

Magnus gave a slight grunt of disinterest. "They're both men. They can handle themselves out there in the world. Unlike you, who clings to his brothers like he's still attached to them to some umbilical cord."

Aleksander's mouth widened in shock at the words, his face turning red. Jakob and Christian snickered impishly.

"Don't act like what I said isn't true," Magnus continued. "Out of the four of us here, you were the only one who clung to Mother and Father the longest, the one without a spine and ignored Hans when Klaus and Elias did years ago. You're also the only one who never showed any ambitions of starting your own life and family, besides King Pieter of course. But at least  _he's_  got a life started. You're just a leech."

Prince Aleksander's eyes started to well with tears, his face still frozen in shock.

Then, his expression turned blank, the threat of crying gone from his countenance.

"At least I wasn't a coward and fled from a battlefield without leave," Aleksander said. "And I was willing to lose fingers for my family. Unlike you, who at my age deserted the army because he witnessed a bit of bloodshed. What do  _you_  have to show for yourself? I know that sword you swing is just a mask, Magnus. It's time you get over yourself. No one cares."

Kristoff switched attention between the two siblings in worry, a hint of surprise at hearing the cold words from Aleksander. He never made indication in the past that he was capable of saying anything cruel like that. Kristoff always thought that out of Hans' siblings that were seeking refuge with them in Arendelle, he was the nicer one.

Then again, what kind of brother would choose to pretend a sibling didn't exist? Never mind that he wanted to make amends, it still spoke volumes of what Aleksander was capable of.

"Hey, hey, guys," Prince Christian diverted. "We're all hurt about our brothers' deaths, I get that. But is this really the best way to deal with it?"

"Yeah," Prince Jakob continued for his twin. "Two of us are gone. Two more have fates we're not clear about yet. And don't forget about the ones that have to deal with the madness going on back home, the ones that are also trying to balance watching over the kingdom and their caring for their own families."

Magnus and Aleksander stared each other down.

Aleksander spoke first, "Shut up, Ib and Ian."

The tension in the air released, despite the vehemence in the statement.

"Your Highnesses!" a servant from the castle cried out. "The Queen requests that you return to her immediately!"

###

Hans gave a once-over of Count Mikelo's work in the mirror, the inn that allowed them to "work on a project" providing them with one. He resisted the urge to touch the paint and dried lumps of clay that transformed his visage into one that resembled Niels'. Needless to say, it was uncanny to see his own brother's face looking back at him.

Count Mikelo Ludoviko of Gavallande, renowned artist? Worthy of the title, it seemed.

"I can sense that you're going to say the plan is stupid," Hans said. "Again."

Mikelo grunted in affirmation as he put away his paints in a wooden box.

"I'm only disappointed that you've given up on your plans to destroy the Order of the Lynx," Mikelo said. "They cannot get away with all they've done, and you were the only one who's actually posed a threat to them in ages."

"There were unforeseen complications," Hans said. "But I have not given up on that plan."

"It's impossible to do it at this point. If they catch wind of who you are…"

Hans shook his head. "Not all my cards have been played, Count Ludoviko. I still have an ace up my sleeve."

"You don't intend to raze this place to the ground, do you?"

Hans considered him for a brief moment.

"If it comes to it, I will," Hans said simply.

Mikelo was silent for a moment.

"Good," the nobleman responded. Mikelo closed his eyes and turned away. "They're going to put the pieces together. They'll know."

"I know that."

"There's no telling if your brother's going to come back to Weselton."

"If Niels believes that I'm dangerous, he wouldn't risk going back for me, thinking that people would die."

"How could you be so sure?"

Hans paused. Considered his answer, not because he didn't know the reason. No, it was because he  _understood_. Despite how illogical and irrational he viewed them in the past, Hans finally understood.

"My brothers are good people. They care about others, unlike me."

Mikelo let out a soft huff of breath, reached out a hand and rested it on Hans' shoulder.

"You know that's a lie," the count said.

Hans shrugged off Mikelo's hand. He didn't need to hear any of this.

"Better get this act going," the prince said. "They're expecting the both of us back now."

The two of them exited the inn, Hans hoisting himself upon Sitron. Mikelo then helped him to tie his wrists and ankles together.

The next, most dangerous phase of this harebrained plan was about to commence.

###

The group returned to the throne room after retrieving Rasmus from his volunteering at the hospital, Queen Elsa on her throne and King Pieter standing beside her. Elsa's hands twitched as they were folded on her lap, nervous about the news she was going to deliver. Pieter looked like he was going to faint, either from exhaustion from trying to get the spell to work or the thought that another of his little brothers was killed or that the youngest was the one that killed him, she wasn't sure. Probably a combination of the three.

"Elsa? What happened?" Anna asked.

"It worked," Elsa said, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"Is he… dead?"

"No, he's alive."

"Then what–"

"We saw him kill Prince Niels," Pieter interrupted.

"Wait, what?" Aleksander said. "What worked? Who killed Niels?"

Elsa took a deep breath, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the throne room with her.

"There was a spell we used, one that would help us find Prince Hans," she said. "And with it, we found him and saw him in Weselton. We… witnessed the murder of Prince Niels in the process."

"What? No! That can't be! I thought he changed!"

"Spell? What spell?" Magnus said, latching on to a different detail of the news. "How do we know you aren't trying to dupe us, Queen Elsa?"

"Because  _I_  was the one who casted it," King Pieter said, about ready to collapse.

"My king, what–" Magnus said before interrupting himself to rush to the king's side.

King Pieter held up his hands to ward away his brother. "Don't. I'm still unwinding from the spell. You're only going to get shocked."

"You should rest, Your Majesty," Magnus said, looking torn between choosing to follow his king's command or to help to steady his older brother.

"I should, but not until I know you're going to aid Queen Elsa with her next task."

All eyes looked to the distraught queen on her throne.

"Queen Elsa?" Kristoff said in askance.

"We know of his location," Elsa said. "And we know he is a grave threat to humanity. I don't know if my curse to his heart made him the way he is, or if it's prevented the full wrath of the land through Prince Hans and these actions are an indicator that he hasn't changed at all; all I know is that he can't be stopped by normal men and women."

"Let my brothers aid you," King Pieter pleaded. "Allow me to accompany you as well."

"I've already told you before, he hasn't withheld his violence towards Prince Niels, what makes you believe he won't do the same to you?"

"And if my brother kills you, Queen Elsa, what hope do we have against him? What hope do we have against the Order of the Lynx? With all due respect, must I remind you that you are too valuable for you to throw yourself haphazardly into the throes of Fate? Think about  _your_ family."

Elsa looked up, locking gazes with Anna. Her little sister pleaded with her eyes; for what, Elsa wasn't sure. It hurt her to realize she wouldn't know how Anna would feel about this. She was cutting others from her life again.

King Pieter was right. She shouldn't expect the retrieval of Prince Hans to go easily. After all, she almost died the last time she saw him in Arendelle. She still had the scar on her side as a reminder.

But… something in her heart wanted to believe Hans wouldn't hurt her, at least not like he had with Niels.

 _Letting people in has only hurt you,_  her inner voice said.  _Shutting them out is safer, simpler._

Elsa clamped her eyes, cutting those thoughts off from taking over her judgment.

No, she will not let them take over again. Despite how much she wanted to keep others safe, it was never good to do something like this on her own.

"You may accompany me, King Pieter," Elsa said at last. "And whichever siblings of yours that would like to do the same. But remember that if you get killed, the same could be said of you and your family. You are much too valuable to throw your lives away."

"Then we've come to an agreement then, Queen Elsa?" King Pieter said.

"I believe we have."


	8. The Monster Within

The slow canter of Sitron back to the Order's stolen mansion as Prince Hans sat atop him brought the prince back to the days he first learned to ride. There was a light drizzle going on in the Southern Isles, the thick mud being kicked up by his eldest brothers' horses as they brought a fourteen-year-old Niels on his very first hunting trip. Hans was only seven at the time.

Sitron hadn't quite entered the riding scene yet, since he wasn't even born. It was the horse that sired him that Hans had his first forays into the skill of horse riding. Hans' father, on one of the rare occasions he decided to show attention to anyone that wasn't Pieter the eldest, deemed the youngest prince ready for lessons taught by the king himself.

At the age of seven, the horse seemed monstrous, every movement and noise the creature made a frightening spectacle. And when Hans he was told to  _ride_  the beast, well… That went as well as any scared seven-year-old could have handled it: he clung to the boots of his father, crying without shame. It didn't matter that the young Hans was already showing himself to be of a devious nature, he was still a child prone to acting as such.

But now, face molded into one that wasn't his own, riding a horse side-saddle without a saddle, limbs bound to one another, and not a single moment where he feared losing his balance; that first day felt like it happened both yesterday and an eon ago.

That was what people were probably talking about when they said their life flashed before their eyes before they died. Hans knew fully well what he was risking in following this half-formed plan to spare Niels.

That, or it was a terrible time to do some introspection.

The Carpenter was waiting for them in front of the mansion, arms crossed in front of his chest. The Huntsman was beside him, crossbow trained directly at the disguised prince. He lowered it, likely due to seeing the state that "Niels" was in atop the horse. He wasn't an immediate threat to them.

"Ludoviko," the Carpenter barked. "Where is the Reaper?"

"Dead, sir," Mikelo said nervously. "This man killed him."

The Huntsman raised his crossbow again, the bolt trained at Hans' head. The Carpenter grinned triumphantly and gave a congratulatory pat on the shoulder to Mikelo. The count shied away from the touch.

"You definitely could have been among the greats like the Huntsman and I, Ludoviko," the Carpenter said. "Too bad you had to turn traitor on us."

"You know fully well that you are the traitors."

"Oh, and whose information about his king helped us take over Gavallande?"

Mikelo fell silent.

"Now then," the Carpenter said, turning his attention to the man on the horse. "To whom do I make my acquaintance with?"

"This is Prince Niels Westergaard, sir," Mikelo said.

Both assassin's eyes lit up. Hans wasn't sure if it was from delight or anger. Maybe both.

"Looks mighty similar to the Reaper, don't you think?" the Huntsman said to the Carpenter.

The Carpenter analyzed the disguised man. "Hmm, yes. Possibly a familial connection."

"Something's amiss here…"

The Carpenter snapped his attention back to the count. "Send for Turpentine. It appears we've discovered another piece to find the Destroyer, and this prince here appears to be a part of it."

"Turpentine? But she–"

"We're aware of your disgust of her. Just bring her over. Unless you want your family to suffer the same fate as your father, hm?"

Mikelo blanched and hung his head. He ran into the estate to do what he was told.

The assassins pulled Hans off the horse, falling in a graceless heap at their feet. The Huntsman rolled him to lie on his back, a heavy boot pressed firmly on Hans' chest with the crossbow still aiming for him. The Carpenter tightened the ropes around Hans' wrists and ankles, ensuring the he wouldn't break free.

"You've turned into more trouble than you're worth," the Huntsman spat. "What do you know of the Order of the Lynx?"

 _More than what I should know,_ Hans wanted to say. Instead, he remained silent, staring at the sky above him. Wow, it completely escaped his notice that it was now night time. The moon was absent, leaving a brilliant display of the stars to make up for the missing celestial body. Probably a bad time for him to admire them, but now he got the faint sense of why Count Mikelo liked to call on them so often.

He wondered how Niels was involved in the Order somehow. Was he among their ranks, like Mikelo claimed Pieter was? Or was there something else?

And there it was again. "The Destroyer." Just who was this person? What side were they on?

Would Elsa admire the stars like this, he wondered?

Needless to say, his mind was a mess.

"Not one to talk, hm?" the Carpenter said. "Don't worry, we'll get Turpentine to fix that for us. Maybe not in one session, but eventually you will. After all, just the fact that all the alarms in my head are being raised just from the look of your face brings you under intense suspicion." He looked off to the side. "Perhaps even your many brothers as well." Then, to the Huntsman, "Once we're done here, raise the Westergaard family higher on the list. I believe it's about time they're brought under closer inspection. There's something about that them, and I'm not quite sure what it is."

"Thinking the same thing I was," the Huntsman agreed.

"You sent for me?" came a dulcet woman's voice, velvet and saccharine in its lilt.  _Too_  sweet. It disgusted Hans.

"Ah, yes, milady," the Carpenter said. "We think this man here has a piece of the puzzle. We need a bit of help in its…  _extraction._ "

"Oh how delightful!" the woman said. She flipped her black hair to one side as she pulled out a small knife, a rag, and a vial from a pouch at her side. "First thing's first, what is his name?"

"Prince Niels Westergaard," the Huntsman said, not having moved a muscle from pinning down Hans earlier.

"A prince, you say?" Turpentine leaned over, getting a good look at the man on the floor. "Oh, pooh, he's too old for my tastes. Ah well, I'll luck out next time."

"There's still Ludoviko," the Carpenter said.

"Nah, I don't like traitors," she responded. "And given our history before either of us joined the Order, it'd be more awkward on my part. A princess marrying anything lower than a prince? I'd never allow myself to get associated with anything like that, despite how much Daddy thought it was a good union."

"Suit yourself."

Turpentine reached out with the knife and made a thin slice against Hans' neck, drawing a bit of blood. Then, she drenched the rag with whatever substance was in the vial and placed it on the cut.

Hans hissed at the contact the liquid made with the injury, but otherwise kept his mouth shut. He looked at the three Order members in defiance.

In the distance, Hans could hear a large yawning moan. He wasn't sure what the source was and turned his head to try to figure out what it was. He felt a warm tingle rush through him, his muscles relaxing.

"Looks like he's primed and ready to go," Turpentine said, giggling in delight. She sat on the ground beside Hans' head, cross-legged.

"See the stars," she hushed,  _"Vidu steloj. Jinö stel."_

Hans' eyes returned to gaze at the sky.

"Tell me, Niels Westergaard, where are you from?"

Hans opened his mouth, but shut it immediately, shaking his head. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should be worried, since he wasn't shaking his head of his own volition.

"Looks like we have an imposter," Turpentine said, her voice clipped. "How droll." She leaned forward a bit and pushed the rag deeper into the cut on Hans' neck. He hissed again, but still kept silent.

"Who are you?" she continued.

No response.

"I swear, I will pry your identity from your soul if you don't— What's this?"

She brushed a hand on Hans' cheek, some of the clay crumbled at the touch. Hans still looked blankly at the sky. He knew he should feel a bit more disturbed at his lack of thought in all of this.

But he wasn't.

"Mikelo…" she grumbled under her breath.

"I told him not to get into anymore trouble," the Huntsman said.

"I'll deal with him in a bit, right now there are more pressing matters," Turpentine said. She pulled another rag from her pouch and wiped the disguise from Hans' face.

"The Reaper," the Carpenter said.

"Oh, rookie," Turpentine sang. "If only you hadn't tried to pull one over on us." She pulled the rag from his neck and stood. "I'll break him in a few days. But first it looks like I've got a last date with Mikelo." She rolled her eyes at this.

"You're not going to see daylight for quite a while," the Huntsman said to Hans, hoisting him onto his shoulder.

###

While Elsa wanted to set sail to Weselton as soon as she laid out her plans, she knew it would take a few days to gather everything she needed together, not to mention debrief the Council of the projects and duties she needed to delegate to them as she was away. Again. This time, however, Anna and Kristoff wouldn't be joining her due to the latter's physical condition and the former's reluctance to leave him alone.

The queen knew that Kristoff hated being the reason why Anna had to be separated from her sister, but at the very least both Elsa and Kristoff would know Anna would be safe. The princess did have a tendency to throw self-preservation out the window when a loved one's life was on the line.

Elsa was in the middle of the last debriefing when an out-of-breath messenger interrupted the meeting.

"A ship from Weselton has arrived," the messenger said. "The Duke of Weselton is demanding your presence immediately in your throne room."

Elsa raised her brows and called for recess for the meeting. She gathered her skirts and almost jogged her way to the throne room. King Pieter and his brothers had already beat her there, the tone of the discussion between them heated.

"…brother is a menace!" she heard the Duke of Weselton ground out, pointing an accusatory finger at the king.

"We're aware of his involvement, and we were just preparing to rectify it," King Pieter said, his voice low and staccato, about to burst in anger.

"If by 'rectify,' you mean to execute him then so be it. If not, I will not agree to attending your summit as he had not-so-politely demanded of me."

"That call goes to the queen, not me."

"Oh? Is that so, King Pieter? Not man enough to carry out your family's dirty work?"

"You're one to talk! Say, how  _is_  your sister doing anyway? Is she still terrorizing your people with her sorcery, or did they finally say enough is enough and got the witch to burn?"

The duke sputtered, blinking rapidly behind his glasses.

Elsa cleared her throat, causing everyone to pause and look at her.

"Gentlemen," Elsa said, nodding once before moving to sit on her throne. She turned to the duke. "You best speak quickly. You did not leave Arendelle on the best of terms the last time."

"As much as it behooves me, I agree to attending your summit on the grounds that I will be granted asylum by you or any of your other allies," the duke said. "In exchange, I will share any information I have gathered of how to weed out and deal with the Order of the Lynx."

"And why the sudden change of heart?"

"As you may or may not have known, Prince Hans has joined the Order of the Lynx. And because of this, I was forced to leave Weselton vulnerable to the likes of those insane assassins."

The air in the room dropped a few degrees. The Westergaards looked to the queen in worry. The duke flinched back a few steps in response.

Seeing the fear in the greying man's eyes reminded Elsa to reign in her emotions a bit. She could always let it out later.

The room back to normal temperature, the duke cleared his throat and continued, "And after our discussion as he made threats to kill me, I've come to the conclusion that he's rising up quickly in its ranks and intends to control them."

"Are you sure of this?" the queen asked.

"Absolutely, Your Majesty."

Elsa looked to her clasped hands on her lap.

"I will arrange asylum for you in one of the empty estates Arendelle has in the town," Elsa said without raising her eyes. "Should you cause trouble, you will be sent to the Southern Isles and King Pieter will have his brother, Prince Holger, accommodate you however he sees fit."

"The Southern Isles, Queen Elsa? But there is a copious amount of the Order's activity over there! I will be killed as soon as I step foot at the docks!"

"Well you best behave, then. I owe you nothing. I'm doing this out of my own generosity, so please don't take it for granted."

The duke curled his lip into a small pout, but relaxed his face and sighed. He bowed deeply and said, "Thank you, Your Majesty."

The guards posted near the throne room's doors escorted him out.

As soon as the doors clicked shut, Elsa hunched over where she sat and wept. A light dust of snow started to fall from the ceiling of the throne room.

"To hear this news of Hans…" King Pieter said, somber. "I'm not sure if it feels worse having three brothers dead, or to have one so lost that he might never be redeemed."

"What will we do now?" Prince Aleksander asked.

"It appears that the duke's suggestion is the only one we have," Prince Rasmus said. His brothers turned to him with an assortment of angry and shocked stares. Rasmus simply shrugged. "I'm just saying that the only way we can truly stop him is if we kill him. The pixies are going to have to choose another victim, but what would we rather see? Another innocent befalling the fate of our youngest brother? Or to see Hans continue this injustice to humanity?"

"I don't like this. Any of it," King Pieter said. He closed his eyes. "But it's your choice, Queen Elsa. You have more power over him than any of us do."

She knew that. Oh, how she  _knew_  that. Over and over, the fact that her recklessness during her coronation was what brought on all this heartache and destruction tore away at her. The responsibility she had in wielding the powers of winter, the very power that could easily best even the balance of nature itself…

The power that she might have to use to kill someone dear to her…

It would have been easier, had she just continued to conceal her emotions.

 _No, it would not have,_  the more rational side of her said.  _Don't lie to yourself like that._

Right. Sometimes, things just… happened. And there's no changing them once they did. There was also always hope. Everyone could be redeemed, after all, no matter how far gone they appeared to be. All they needed was to make that choice.

…would Hans make that choice?

"For those of you going to accompany me, are all of you prepared?" Elsa asked, drying her tears. The snow in the air stilled and dissipated into oblivion.

They all answered affirmatively.

"I'll finish my meeting with the Council. Afterwards, we depart."

###

Hans didn't know what became of Mikelo, but he knew whatever it was, it wasn't good. He hadn't seen him in the last few days. Besides, it was better him than all the time he was forced to spend with this Order member called "Turpentine."

Her "office" looked to be some parlor retrofitted into a doctor's room, but with a chemist's tools of the trade covering every tabletop. Despite being in the room for the last few days, he couldn't make sense of any of the labels that covered each glass vial, beaker, tube, and whatnot. Holger and Rasmus would likely know what they were, since they were interested in the sciences – Hans? Not so much. Not his area of speciality.

It didn't take a specialist to know that Turpentine was interested in him, however. Sure, Hans knew he was rather attractive, but  _come on._ And the woman claimed that she was a princess? Thank goodness he never set his sights on whatever kingdom  _she_  was an heir to.

He hated how forward she was being. Hans felt like he needed to bathe for a long, long time.

"You're  _very_  resistant for a rookie," she said, sultry. She walked her fingers up one of his biceps. She placed a kiss on his shoulder.

Hans would have snapped her wrist for that, if he wasn't tied down to the chair. Instead, he drove daggers into her through his stare.

"You know that I could easily best you like this," she continued. "Yet you still fight. Now, why is that? Already have a woman in mind?" A flash of realization sparkled in her eyes. "Oh, of course. Why didn't I think of that?"

Hans couldn't help but hitch his breath when he saw the tiny knife draw close to his neck. That meant she was going to shove whatever concoction she had in those vials she had into his system and bring him into a stupor like she had done countless times since he was brought into her office. Hans knew whatever she was doing, it was likely a process that made the Order's servant into the will-less beings they were now.

And each time she did that, he could feel his resolve chip away little by little. The loud, imagined groaning grew stronger and stronger. Another voice added to his head to join the land whispering away at him.

Though, it was strange how silent it happened to be lately. How long ago since he did a proper sacrifice? A month? Maybe more? Killing that Order member that threatened him in the duke's estate didn't count. That man's soul went wherever it was supposed to go.

"You know we can do this the easy way," Turpentine said. "But no, you just want to keep silent. What loyalties could you possibly have that could defy the power of the Order of the Lynx? We know you didn't kill that prince of the Southern Isles like you were commanded to.  _No one_  could possibly hide a dead body from us."

"That's what you want to believe," Hans croaked, his voice dry and rasping.

"Ah, so you do talk," she said. "Too little, too late."

She cut a fresh incision into his flesh and stuck the concoction-drenched rag onto the wound.

Unlike his previous experiences with whatever drug she forced into his system, Hans knew this time he was going to lose.

The room around him disappeared, darkness enveloping him. He was… Was he floating?

"I finally have you now," came Turpentine's voice. Distant. Echoing. "We found Mikelo's sketch of Prince Niels. A striking resemblance between you and him, I believe. Maybe even… familial? Tell me, are you related to him?"

"Yes," came the monotone reply of Hans' voice.

No. No, no, no!

"Are you a brother of his?"

"Yes."

At this, she cackled in delight. "Looks like I've found myself a new pet. Are you a Westergaard?"

"Yes."

Despite how much he tried, he couldn't keep himself from answering her questions. It was as if his mind and his body got separated.

Almost. He could still feel the pressure of the rag against his neck and the chair that he sat on, despite the feeling of weightlessness. He could feel the vile woman carding her fingers through his hair.

"Stop," he heard his voice say.

He heard a throaty growl of displeasure from the woman.

"Okay, enough is enough. I've finally found the threshold to break you," she said. The pressure of the rag lifted from his neck and it felt like a vortex pulled Hans back to the here and now.

"Separate my mind from my body further, and you will regret the horrors that might unleash," Hans threatened.

Turpentine glowered at him. She pulled out a needle, filled it one of her mixtures, and jabbed it into the center of Hans' chest. She compressed the plunger, injecting its contents into him.

"You'll find out quickly that I enjoy danger," she said before Hans was thrust once again into the void.

Except this time he wasn't alone in there.

A loud groan resounded in the blackness around Hans, the loudest it has ever been. He turned around.

Before him, giant roaring dragon materialized, its scales shimmering in hues of all colors of the rainbow but its wings as black as night. Its head and feet were covered in white plumage.

" _She will pay for claiming what isn't hers but mine,"_  a booming voice reverberated around him. A familiar voice. One that he had to listen to for over a year now.

A voice he knew belonged to both the land and this dragon creature.

As soon as Hans made this realization, the monster made another roar, and he was yanked back into reality. The restraints that once held him had mysteriously disintegrated, the woman that tormented him for the past few days cowering in a corner. The scythe was in his hands once more.

" _Everything in this place must be destroyed,"_ the voice said.  _"Go forth and cast my judgment."_

Hans looked at the sickle-shaped blade at the end of the scythe, then at Turpentine. The disdain he had for the woman bubbled up into his memories. The fact how close she got to bringing harm to everyone he loved.

The land wasn't controlling him, the ice in his heart made sure of that. But that didn't mean that he wouldn't choose to kill her. Quite the opposite, actually.

Hans would enjoy sending this one's soul to whatever fate the land had for her.


	9. At Long Last

The Queen of Arendelle, the King of the Southern Isles, and two of the latter's siblings were on their way to the duchy. Prince Rasmus and the twin princes, Jakob and Christian, stayed in Arendelle; the older of the three deemed his skills better suited to helping to rebuild. Ib and Ian, well... they assured Elsa that they would keep the Duke of Weselton from causing too much of a commotion.

Not to mention that they themselves might cause an even greater commotion should they have joined them along in their journey. It was just prudence on everyone's part to leave them behind. King Pieter was confident in Prince Rasmus' ability to keep them in line. Sort of. If all else failed, there was always Princess Anna and Kristoff they had to deal with.

Good thing Elsa had her Council to handle the kingdom. The couple certainly would have their hands full with the twins and the duke.

Prince Magnus and Prince Aleksander were the ones that joined the monarchs. Magnus, because he was emphatic in his desire to protect the king at all costs. Aleksander... well, Elsa wasn't quite sure of his motive; though she suspected that he felt like out of all the siblings, he was the one who could reach out to Hans better than the others.

Aleksander was just too much of a coward – his words, not hers.

There was obvious contention between the third-born and the twelfth-born, more so than normal. It was often a silent display, but whenever the two finished with their staring matches, she often saw Magnus tending obsessively to his sword and Aleksander rubbing at the two nubs on his hand where fingers used to be, eyes vacant. And they often tried to avoid the attention of King Pieter afterward.

Elsa was glad her relationship with Anna didn't have as many pitfalls as the Westergaard brothers seemed to have. Anna was much too open of a person to allow a grudge to form a rift of any sort to those she held close.

There weren't any physical altercations between the brothers, at least. If it came to it... well... At least she brought some guards from Arendelle with her?

The trip was only two short days. But the tension coming from multiple sources dragged on the voyage to feel like she was months at sea. Even after safely going to and from Corona by ship, she still disliked the mode of transportation. But going by land would have taken months. Cutting through the short portion of sea between her kingdom and the duchy was more practical.

Besides, it seemed like the situation between Magnus and Aleksander had reached a boiling point if the shouting from on deck was anything to go by. Having to deal with that for an actual few months instead of a few days... Yeah, no one wanted that.

Elsa sighed from where she sat at her desk in her quarters and stood from her seat. She decided to intervene before Magnus and Aleksander ended up making their grievances against one another into physical altercations.

Why wasn't King Pieter doing something about it?

"He is your brother! How could you be so nonchalant about that?" Aleksander screamed.

"He's a grown man, Aleksander!" Magnus shot back. "He makes his own choices, and he will have to face the consequences! What he's doing is  _wrong_."

"I am  _not_  going to let you kill him!"

"Oh? And what'll happen if he tries to kill you?"

"He won't!"

"I'm sure Niels thought the same, too. And guess what? He's dead! Face it, Aleksander, he's lost to us!"

"No one can truly be lost, Magnus!"

"You're delusional!"

"You're heartless!"

The arguing brothers stared at each other. Magnus' hand hovered dangerously close to the pommel of his sword at his hip. It was then that Elsa noticed that Aleksander had his sword at his side as well, the only occasion that she had ever seen the twelfth-born with it. The younger of the two pulled out his blade and lunged, the other drawing his own to parry Aleksander's attack.

Okay, enough watching.

With a firm step onto the wooden deck of the ship, ice swirled and emanated from the queen's feet, causing Magnus and Aleksander to slip and lose focus of one another to keep their balance. Elsa flicked her fingers and snapped her wrists, more ice flying onto the deck around the princes. She encased their legs in ice and conjured up a wall between them to prevent their weapons from harming one another.

The two brothers turned their attention to the snow queen, eyes wide in shock. They dropped their weapons and raised their hands over their heads, showing her that they didn't intend to further their intents to maim each other.

"Queen Elsa!" Aleksander cried in alarm.

"Y-your Majesty!" Magnus sputtered.

"Enough," Elsa said firmly. "Whatever ire you two have between one another, I suggest you handle it properly like the adults you are. Or I'll send you back on the next boat leaving Weselton."

Magnus and Aleksander exchanged heated glances with each other. If Elsa didn't know any better, she would've believed that the ice separating them would have melted from their stares alone.

"There is no way I'm going to let this bloodthirsty hothead anywhere near Hans," Aleksander said.

"In that case, I'm not going to let this spineless klutz have any responsibility regarding the matters of life and death," Magnus bit.

"I am  _not_  a klutz."

"Oh? And who spilled a whole jug of water because he couldn't hold it right with only three fingers on one hand?"

"At least I'm not the one that gets into a full-blown panic attack if his security blanket isn't around him!"

"It's a  _sword_."

"From all the crying you did last night, one would think otherwise, crybaby."

"I wouldn't have had an issue if you didn't steal it away from my quarters as I bathed yesterday!"

"She said enough!" boomed King Pieter's voice behind Elsa. The princes looked away from each other with guilt-ridden faces. Elsa took this as a good time to free them from her ice. Magnus and Aleksander sidestepped away from each other, increasing the space between one another.

It was strange to see King Pieter as so authoritative. Of course, he was a king so there had to be that side of him somewhere, but it was... rather unnerving to see him like this. Even though him and his brothers had stayed in Arendelle for a while, it was just as rare to see him taking a stand as it was to see Prince Rasmus smile. Which was pretty much never.

Prince Magnus and Prince Aleksander seemed to sense this and visibly quailed at the angered gaze from the king.

"You two are going to resolve this now before we reach the harbor," Pieter continued. "There is no way I can talk to Hans with enough conviction as you can, Aleksander. And Magnus, should he turn out to be violent, you wield the sword better than anyone else on this ship. You two are needed, and you will  _not_  toss away this opportunity just to deny it for the other."

Still looking ashamed, Aleksander held out a hand. "Temporary truce?"

Magnus' attention flickered between the proffered hand and the king, his face conflicted. With reluctance, he shook Aleksander's hand.

"I'll make myself clear," King Pieter said. "Neither of you are to approach Hans unless I say so, understood?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," the two of them responded simultaneously.

###

It seemed that as soon as the vile Turpentine was killed, the whole establishment lit up in a frenzy. Whatever concoctions she pumped into the mind-controlled servants was not just some chemical bond, but something darker, more sinister than Hans had imagined. It seemed that her death was the catalyst that sparked some kind of kill-directive within them, because as soon as that woman's soul dissipated into the ether, a cascade of screams and wails erupted throughout the estate. And when he left the lightless torture chamber he was kept in for the past few days, a sudden bombardment of unarmed servants made it their mission to tear at him with animalistic fury in their eyes. There was nothing human in them left.

At least, that's what he tried to convince himself as he mowed each assailant down as he tried to make his way to the upper levels of the mansion where he knew the higher-ups of the Order stationed themselves in their downtime.

In the back of his mind, he knew it was a small consolation to not allow the servants to continue acting without control over their own bodies. After all, look how well  _he_  turned out – and that's with the land not being out-and-out downright evil. Sure, it wanted the destruction of humanity... but it had some sense of logic, right? The land seemed able to be reasoned with. Kind of.

The Order of the Lynx? No. They were human and mortal and had the capacity for developing good morals. Yet they chose wrong. They should have known better.

In other words, he wanted to believe he was freeing these poor people from a fate worse than death at the hands of these assassins.

He wanted to believe, but he was failing. If it weren't for his frozen—half-frozen?—heart, Hans was pretty sure he would be a nervous wreck.

Wait... would he?

Because he was pretty sure that the faint glimmer of  _something_  he was feeling wasn't grief. Was that... amusement?

Was that from him? Or was that the land? No, it couldn't be the land. He hadn't been able to "feel" what it was feeling for a while now. Unless Turpentine did something to him?

Now that he thought about it more, what was that dragon? Was that really some embodiment of the world around him, or was that some kind of hallucination brought on by whatever concoction that was flooded into his system?

 _"Worry yourself on this matter later,"_  the land's voice echoed around him. Hang on, it wasn't in his head anymore?

 _"Keep moving!"_  it prodded at him.

Okay,  _that_  sounded too real. He turned his head, just to fulfill the urge to check that it wasn't someone trying to mess with him.

But what he saw made him get out of his hiding spot just for the purpose of  _not_  being there anymore.

That... that was  _definitely_  some giant ethereal, half-invisible dragon's head that poked through the wall behind Hans. What in the world was in those chemicals Turpentine gave him!? Sure, hearing voices in your head that weren't your own making could be listed as insanity.

This, however, was a on a completely different level.

But enough thinking. There were some people that needed to get what was coming for them. He'd handle the new developments later.

_"They lie in wait for you, second-to-last door to the left. Be cautious."_

He didn't need to be told twice. After all, there was still the swarming mob of servants throughout the estate (which he was thankfully able to avoid for the moment). And now that he thought about it, none of the actual Order members were around. Perhaps they fled the area once they realized that Turpentine was dead. Or they were bunkering down in the very room the land was leading him to.

Only one way to find out.

With a deft kick, Hans put all his strength into the wooden door before him. It didn't budge.

_"Brace yourself."_

There was barely enough warning as an earthquake shook throughout the mansion, a wide crack ripping though the wall that encompassed the locked door. Hans gave the door another kick and it collapsed into the room with little resistance.

Inside, there were only three people. The Carpenter, the Huntsman, and... Count Mikelo?

Mikelo was on his hands and knees before the Order members, his head bowed out of sight. The Huntsman had his crossbow aimed at Hans as the Carpenter had a lynx-pommeled dagger at the count's neck.

"How nice of you to join us, 'Reaper.' Or should I say Prince Hans Westergaard?" the Carpenter said.

Hans furrowed his brow, but took firm steps towards the two assassins with the scythe in front of him.

"Release him," Hans said.

"Oh, you want him?" the Carpenter said. He nudged Mikelo to his feet with a prodding foot.

_"There is dark sorcery in this room."_

The slow, methodical movements of the nobleman warned Hans that Mikelo wasn't completely there. His suspicions were confirmed when the dark-haired man lunged for the prince with a sword.

Hans parried the strike with the sturdy handle of the scythe, and he spun on one heel to avoid another slash of Mikelo's blade. The prince ducked as he heard the  _thwack_  of a crossbow firing. The bolt whistled past his ear to impale itself into a nearby painting.

It was fortunate that Mikelo didn't appear to be great with wielding a sword, even while under the control of master killers, since Hans was able to easily disarm the nobleman and knock him unconscious with a hard punch to the head.

"Destroy this place, and this world has no hope," the Carpenter warned.

"Your 'hope' desecrates the innocent," Hans responded. "I cannot allow the atrocities the Order of the Lynx has committed to go unpunished."

The Huntsman laughed as the Carpenter growled in annoyance.

"You don't know, do you?" the Huntsman said, a smirk on his face. "The Lightbringer, the Destroyer... given the information that Ludoviko was so kind to share with us before you interrupted our discussion... You can't be so blind to know that call the Destroyer 'brother.' King Pieter Westergaard needs to be killed."

Pieter was this "great evil" they were hunting for?

No, the Order's sense of right and wrong were corrupted. To even imply his brother was anything similar to a "destroyer"...

Hans chucked the scythe at the Huntsman. The assassin was much too bulky and not at all lithe enough to get out of the way of the spinning blade. The curved blade contacted the top of his shoulder and tore itself effortlessly through the entire length of burly torso.

A gurgling, blood-filled cough escaped from the Huntsman before he dropped his crossbow and his body fell limp into two halves.

_"There was no need for the bloodshed."_

And of course, the land didn't like that. Of  _course._ Wanting him to murder and kill was perfectly fine as long as there wasn't any blood. Because  _that_  made sense.

Hans summoned the scythe back into his hands and stared down the Carpenter, crimson dripping from the blade.

The dagger-wielding assassin looked to the mangled body of his fallen comrade, his face turning a sickly yellow.

"You will come to regret this," the Carpenter said.

Hans drew closer.

"I know I will," Hans said, grabbing onto the man's arm before the dagger could reach him. He twisted his wrist, and the weapon fell to the floor in a clatter.

The assassin cried out in pain, the tether between his soul and his body being tested and strained. The rose a brow to see the wicked man's spirit to be grey instead of the black he expected.

Regardless, Hans cut through the man with the scythe.

The Order of the Lynx was done for.

A horrible, raucous cacophony of screams echoed throughout the mansion. A familiar voice called out in agony in the room, it's terrible sound rung from behind Hans.

He turned around and saw Mikelo on the floor, squirming on his side and clawed at his neck, gasping and heaving for air as tears streaked from the corners of his eyes.

It reminded him so much of Klaus when he–

Hans snapped his focus back to the present and went to the count's side.

"Prince Hans," Mikelo said weakly, before another wave of torture overcame his body. The screams throughout the estate echoed simultaneously.

The servants... they...

They were suffering the same fate as Count Mikelo.

"Prince Hans," Mikelo tried again. "Kill me. Please."

Hans hesitated.

"Make it stop! Please! I can't–" Mikelo begged.

 _"Oh, God! Oh, God, make it stop! Hans! Just do it! I can't..."_  Hans' memory of his brother's final moments alive whispered in the back of his head.

 _"Let this end, my reaper,"_ the land said.  _"Do not revile yourself for this. I will care for him."_

The prince scrunched his brow, torn and confused.

"T-they made me kill my family," Mikelo said, his voice strained and filled with sobs. "And then they poisoned me. I... please..."

_"Be swift. It appears you have been affected as well."_

At this, Hans noticed the very obvious,  _very_  worrying tremor in his hands. As he blinked, he could feel his focus waning ever so slightly, the edges of his vision trimmed with a haze of darkness.

It was probably foolish to trust the land with its promise. Hans knew he would come to regret killing all these innocents. It was not his place to end their lives just to free them of this torture.

Was it?

He wasn't sure anymore.

Hans placed his hand on the count's forehead and didn't even wait a moment after seeing the edges of grey surrounding Mikelo before ending his misery. He wanted his death to be swift. He didn't want to draw it out any longer than was necessary.

He stood.

Then he collapsed to the floor.

###

The Duchy of Weselton turned out to be more in disarray than she originally thought. Large portions of the port city were abandoned, likely due to the growing influence the Order of the Lynx were having after the duke fled for Arendelle. Buildings were crumbling and cracking as sudden earthquakes rumbled. It was made even more eerie to witness since there were no people wanting to scurry away.

It was probably better that way, since it meant innocent civilians weren't around to get hurt.

There were, however, a few people fleeing from a nearby building. It was like a dark presence was emanating from the large estate.

Elsa knew she would find Hans inside.

"Look, isn't that Sitron?" Prince Aleksander said, pointing to a pale-coated horse beside the building.

"It would appear so, Sander," Prince Magnus confirmed. "It wouldn't be above him to claim a gift from Prince Niels before killing him, after all."

Queen Elsa and King Pieter gave the third-born prince a glare, warning him to hold his tongue. It was a delicate enough situation without his snide remarks.

"You make the call, Queen Elsa," King Pieter said. "Are we ready to face him?"

Elsa nodded. "Yes."

She prayed with every fiber in her being that she wouldn't have to end up killing him in the end. But she also hoped she had enough strength if it came to it.

###

Their first encounter with someone inside the mansion turned out to be a very flighty, very trained woman that seemed too eager to stab them with her sword. Fortunately, Magnus was able to disarm her with a riposte and demand information of Hans' whereabouts without the aid of Elsa's powers. After all, if Hans was nearby, that meant the land's attention was as well. It would be too risky to anger it at a time like this, especially since the building around them could collapse around them at any given moment.

"Last I saw him, he was on his way to the top floor," she said. "Watch out though, the servants around here are out for blood. Doesn't matter if it's mine or yours."

"Kill her, Prince Magnus," King Pieter instructed.

Magnus didn't need to be told twice and cut her throat without hesitation.

"What was that for?" Elsa asked, shocked.

"Look at the pommel of her sword. There's a lynx on it."

"And?"

"She was an Order member, Queen Elsa," Magnus explained. "She was on the strike team in the Southern Isles."

Prince Aleksander spat on the dead woman's face. "That's for cutting off my fingers, scum."

Elsa tried to keep the look of disgust and shock from her face. The woman might have deserved the treatment after all. And from the few anecdotes she was given of the Westergaard brothers from Hans, they weren't the most upright people in the world. This short exchange reminded her of that fact.

"Up we go?" Aleksander said, seemingly satisfied with his small act of "comeuppance."

"Appears so," Magnus said. "I'll lead in case we come across any more surprises like that woman."

###

Upon the second landing, Elsa saw firsthand the carnage the woman from earlier was alluding to.

A trail of bodies lined the hallway, some getting brutally ravaged by streaks of scratches from fingernails. Elsa had to avert her eyes when she saw the caved-in skull of someone who took a large blow to the head by a brick.

And yes, she knew it was a brick. She saw it sticking out of the head.

Elsa was much too soft for this kind of stuff. It was a wonder her stomach wasn't emptying itself right about now.

Prince Aleksander leaned slightly against the queen, a bit of green hinting at his cheeks. He was faring as well as she was, it seemed. She exhaled and looked straight in front of her at the back of Prince Magnus' head, not focusing on the scene around her.

It turned out to be a mistake, since she didn't notice a man approaching her. He landed a heavy hit to her shoulder, causing her to spin around in surprise and terror, ready to freeze her assailant.

Before she could, however, the man flinched back and held onto his neck as if he was choking, a strangled cry coming from him. A similar cacophony erupted throughout the building as well.

Everyone cupped their ears since the sound piercing painfully into their eardrums.

"What's happening?" Aleksander screamed into the chaos.

"I don't know!" Pieter shouted back. "Let's find Hans quick!"

They scurried around the corridors, finally finding the next staircase that would lead them up into the third floor, trying to pay no need to the people incapacitated by whatever was ailing them. It was hard to Elsa to do, if she were completely honest. To just walk past people in need felt so wrong.

But if anything was responsible for what was happening, Hans was likely at the epicenter of all of it, guilty or not. Her chances at helping these people would increase if she knew what was going on at least.

Once they reached the third landing, they heard a muffled cry in the distance.

"Make it stop! Please! I can't–"

They all froze in place where they were, trying to figure out the location of the plea.

"It sounded like it came from this direction," Aleksander said, pointing to the end of a long stretch of corridor.

"Maybe it's a trap," Magnus said.

"Or maybe someone really needs our help."

There wasn't enough time for arguing. Elsa huffed in aggravation and made her way down the direction they heard the cry.

Even though they were informed of Hans' location, she knew deep in her heart that he was there. After all, the woman from earlier could've easily been lying. But no. It was difficult for her to explain, even to herself, but Elsa just...  _knew._

The doorway was cracked open, the door itself a mess of rubble in front of her.

It was at this point her stomach nearly emptied its contents. She caught sight of a man's body sliced lengthwise in half, his organs and entrails leaking out of the corpse. Her heart leapt to her throat at seeing a crouched figure lingering over another man on the floor.

The scythe with a light that faded with an afterglow of a recent sacrifice. The familiar shade of copper brown hair. It was Hans. He was right in front of her.

A mixture of emotions cumulated within the queen: the desire to run up and embrace him after missing him for so long, the fear and anguish at seeing the mess he created in the room, the indecision and hesitation of if she should freeze his feet to the floor in case he turned out to be dangerous.

She saw him stand and subsequently collapse to the floor.

She rushed to his side, her heart skipping a beat when he saw the state he was in.

Hans was gaunt, his eyes sunken, his skin a white pallor. There was a worrying quiver and tremor in his body. He stared blankly at the ceiling with unfocused eyes.

"Queen Elsa!" cried King Pieter from the doorway, his brothers close by. "Please don't run off like that again, this place is – Hans!" Elsa heard their footsteps halt then scurry to where she was on the floor beside Hans.

Unseeing green eyes flickered to her face from the floor.

"Sorceress," Hans whispered.

No. No, this wasn't him. He wouldn't call her that. Unless... he really  _was_  lost to them.

"You have not won, sorceress," he continued. "But whatever you did to him that makes it impossible for me to reach him... I must thank you for it since it has spared him the brunt of the poison within him."

Wait... the land? And it was...  _thanking_ her?

"I ask for a temporary truce. Please help him. I cannot do so myself."

"Oh, Hans. What happened to you?" she wondered aloud.


	10. Found and Lost

Hans opened his eyes, a struggle since it felt like they were fastened together with iron threads. His body felt sore all over, and there was a sensation of rocks in his throat. He looked around himself, recognizing the beveled molding that trimmed the edges of the ceiling, the paintings that hung on the walls, the bed board at his feet.

Was he dead? Because the thought the next time he would ever have a chance at being in his room again in the Southern Isles would be as a corpse to be buried.

"Hi, Hans," a masculine voice said beside him, accompanied with fingers carding through his hair along his scalp. The foreign touch caused Hans to snap his attention to the voice, regretting the movement a bit at the sudden wave of nausea that flooded around his stomach, neck, and head.

Hans calmed a bit when he realized it was Holger, his second-eldest brother.

"Easy there, brother," the doctor prince said, dabbing a damp, ice-cold washcloth on his head, cheeks, and neck. "You're running a fever, and the medicine I gave you for the poison is going to make you feel even worse for a while."

Hans ran his tongue over his dry, cracked lips before trying to speak. "W-what happened?"

"You were poisoned back in Weselton. King Pieter and Queen Elsa deemed it best to bring you to the Southern Isles since they believed I was the one most-equipped to help you."

"Where are they?"

"Our elder brother is holding a meeting with his council and the rest of our brothers regarding his return to the kingdom. Queen Elsa is outside waiting for you to wake up."

At hearing how close the queen was, Hans' eyes widened further and lit up.

"Would you like to see her?" Holger asked. Hans nodded slowly.

The door to the room clicked open and shut. A wooden stool scraped along the floor. Cold hands cupped his face and turned it to gaze upon wide, worried blue eyes. Elsa's eyes flickered across his face as if she was looking for something. Whether she found it or not, or even  _if_  she was looking, he wasn't sure. But whatever her conclusions were, it brought tears to her eyes.

He brought up a hand, ready to wipe the droplets from her face, to comfort her. But upon seeing his uncovered hand, he remembered the curse. He withdrew his reach.

Wordlessly, Queen Elsa wrapped her arms around his neck. He felt her tears brush against the side of his cheek.

He hated this. He hated not being able to comfort her or to even join in whatever sorrow she was feeling. He hated leaving unfinished business in Weselton. He hated willfully giving in to violence so easily. He hated knowing that he failed all those innocent people in the estate with all the mistakes and stumbling blocks he faced along the way. He hated the land. He hated the pixies. He hated…

He hated himself most of all.

Elsa deserved better than what he could ever offer her, and yet she chose him over her own happiness. She shouldn't even  _consider_  shedding a single tear for his own sake.

"Queen Elsa, I suggest you try not to jostle him too much," Prince Holger said from the other side of the room. "His condition has greatly improved, but the medicine I gave him can cause Hans to go green in the gills at any moment's notice."

With reluctance, Elsa released Hans from her arms. She turned to the elder prince and asked, "You said he was running a fever. Why is his body so cold?"

"That's a conundrum that I haven't been able to figure out," Holger responded. "I don't often see bodies this cold unless they're ready to be buried or having frostbitten limbs surgically removed. But whatever is causing this, I believe it's kept the poison from spreading to the rest of his body. There was evidence of an injection into his heart, a rather forceful one with a bit of bruising around the site, so I deduce that's where the poisoning took place. But while the antidote appears to be working, there's… another observation that eludes all my studies in medicine."

Holger approached the bed and placed a hand on Hans' chest. He gestured for Elsa to do the same, the queen obliging him.

Elsa's eyes opened wide in shock as she withdrew her hand to cover her gaping mouth.

"I think this is the main culprit as to why he hasn't died to the poison," Holger continued.

"What? What is it?" Hans asked.

"You don't have a heartbeat, brother."

He didn't have a…

"I… don't?" How was that possible? Elsa couldn't possibly been the one to cause it. He didn't notice any change after his heart being frozen except for constantly being cold and the lack of emotion. After all, something major like that wouldn't have escaped his notice for that long.

It had to be Turpentine's work. Maybe that's why he was starting to see this dragon-land apparition? Because he was…

"Am I dead?" Hans asked out loud.

"No, it just means that I have to redefine  _your_  definition of 'being alive.' Fortunately, your head doesn't appear to have been affected, though the white locks of hair are a bit worrying. Hence the fever."

A sullen look overcame Holger's face.

"There's something else, isn't it?" Hans said.

His brother turned his attention to the floor, picking on the seams at the cuff of his shirt. "Niels went on and on about the Order of the Lynx, how you made it look like you wanted to kill him, but ended up shipping him back to the Southern Isles. I'm not going to look deeper into  _why_  since you've always been one to defy all my reasonings. But… were you poisoned by the Order?"

"Apparently."

Holger's face grew pale, but kept his professional air about him. "Rest now, little brother."

"You aren't going to tell me what's bothering you?"

"I will. But at your current state, I cannot. When you're up on your feet and meet with the rest of us, then we can discuss this."

"Why? What happened, Prince Holger?" Elsa asked.

Holger looked between Elsa and Hans, his green eyes bouncing between blue and a matching set of green. He scratched the underside of his goatee and faced the door.

"Let's speak of this outside, Your Majesty."

###

It had been about a week since Elsa left Arendelle. Anna was faring surprisingly well as the substitute leader of the kingdom, though the first few days were really hectic with trying to balance attention between the asylum seekers and coordinating the coming summit with all the leaders now that Weselton was on board, albeit begrudgingly.

There was a scare when a letter arrived from Elsa, noting that Weselton was now in complete disarray, that they found Hans but in critical condition, and that they directed their course to the Southern Isles for treatment. It was fortunate that the next letter didn't take as long to deliver, only arriving the following day, since it detailed how Elsa was doing and that since Kristoff and Anna were likely finished with the pivotal plans of Arendelle, they were free to relax. In fact, everyone was allowed to breathe a deep sigh of relief, including Hans' brothers that stayed in Elsa's kingdom. He was responding well to the treatment after all, it was only a matter of time until he would regain consciousness.

And so, Kristoff took this time to make a visit that was long overdue.

"Hey, buddy. I missed you."

Kristoff snapped the locks to the wheels of his chair as he angled himself beside the reindeer. Sven snorted happily in response, his feet plopping against the dirt inside the stable.

" _I missed you, too!"_ Kristoff answered back for Sven. The blond chuckled and pulled out a carrot from his pocket. He handed it to the reindeer, who took it with fervent excitement. Sven munched on the orange vegetable with contentment.

" _What happened to you? Ever since all the ground-shaking, I haven't seen you. Anna got all sad and said you might not harvest ice anymore!"_

"It's… complicated."

" _But you love ice! It's your life!"_

"I know, I know. I just…" Kristoff hung his head. "I just can't anymore."

Sven brought his snout close to the dejected face of Kristoff, each exhale jostling a few strands that hung in front of the man's forehead.

" _Does the family know about this?"_

"Yes, they do."

" _And Granpabbie is okay with it?"_

"Yes. Well… no. I mean–"

" _Then why?"_

Kristoff clenched his fists atop a pair of knees he could no longer feel. He tugged at the fabric of his pants in anger at the unfairness of it all.

"I can't walk anymore, okay!?"

Kristoff snapped his head back up to glare angrily into Sven's eyes, face red and eyes pricking at the beginning formation of tears. The reindeer bowed his head slightly, bringing his nose even closer to Kristoff's face.

With no warning, Sven licked the width of Kristoff's forehead.

Disgusted but distracted from his internalized anger, Kristoff swiped his forearm against his face to rub off the damp residue that was reindeer saliva.

"Sven! What was that for?"

" _Let's go outside. We both need it."_

"Didn't you hear what I just said? And I'm not in the mood to go  _anywhere_  right now."

" _Right now, but how about..."_

"Wait, what—?"

Sven sniffed. With a strong tug against the collar of Kristoff's shirt, Sven hoisted Kristoff off his chair and tossed him over his head to land on the brown fur of his back.

Terrified, Kristoff clung to Sven's neck with all the strength he had as the reindeer bucked against the door to his stall, breaking the lock. Sven cantered out of the stall and into the outdoor air, snorting and calling out in merriment. He took off in full gallop toward the open gates of the castle.

A guard they passed by cried out in alarm, "Mister Bjorgman!"

"Tell Anna I'll be back in a bit!" Kristoff called back, grinning in euphoria as he felt the wind brush his cheeks as he held on for dear life. He laughed as they dashed through the busy streets of the town, making themselves into a spectacle on what appeared to be a normal day in the kingdom.

He tried not to pay any attention to the rebuilding efforts Arendelle was undergoing. If he did, then he'd hear the screams of terrified people plummeting to their deaths on his wedding day instead of people screaming in shock and awe at a reindeer having a happy gallop through the markets. He did enough imagining whilst bedridden anyway. It was no question Anna and Elsa would imagine along with him at times.

" _Let's go visit the family. I haven't seen them in forever!"_

"Lead the way, Sven!"

###

A dark cloud plumed at the foot of Hans' bed as soon as Elsa and Holger left the room. It wisped and curled, the cloud's tendrils spinning and condensing into solid form.

Hans bucked and dug his heels into his bed, pushing himself up the headboard in a sitting position, surprised at the apparition before him. His head pounded and his entire body ached at the jostling.

The clouds dissipated, revealing a very pale, snow-haired man adorned in a black robe and a cloak of scales that shimmered the colors of the rainbow. His irises were blue, his pupils slits that looked reptilian in nature. In them, Hans saw and felt a gravity of anger, loss, and eons past that sent shivers down his spine.

"It pleases me to know that you've finally awoken, my reaper," the man said, the voice a familiar chime and thunder the prince had grown accustomed to since what felt like ages ago, when pixies came into his life and ruined pretty much everything.

Hans' mouth gaped as he held his breath in terrifying realization.

This was the land? Wait, wasn't the land a dragon, too? Nothing was making sense… what…?

Ooh, the medicine Holger gave him must have done a number to his head. A fever dream – yes, that's what this was.

He held his head, a wave of nausea pricked at his cheeks, his brain not comprehending anything that was going on.

"You… can see me?" the man asked. Dragon-man. Land. Monster.

Argh, why did things have to get so much more complicated?

Hans nodded slowly, not wanting to give a verbal answer until his stomach stopped its gymnastics.

A worried look washed over the man's face. He glided across the floor in a way that didn't look like he was walking at all and stopped when he was near the head of the bed. He reached out a hand to touch the prince's face; which Hans recoiled away from.

"Perhaps she was too late in saving you," the man continued, laying the back of his hand to touch Hans' forehead like his mother did years ago when he caught a fever. "Yet your soul still latches onto this plane. How peculiar."

"What's going on?" Hans asked, finding his voice. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"I am Amh'skelajas. I am the earth beneath your feet. I am the bounty and the blight of the harvest. I am the home and grave to every mortal being on this plane. I am the jailer and liberator of nature and magic. As for what I want" –the man withdrew his hand and tucked it behind his back, hidden away under his cloak of scales– "I want balance, and that sorceress that you hold so close to your heart has destroyed it." He turned his gaze deeper into Hans' eyes, an intensely pensive look. "I am immortal and yet you can… see me?"

"I'm assuming that's not normal."

"No one has ever seen my spirit before. Not even my children; the traitors and the chaotic both. No one, at least not since…" A flicker of sorrow rippled through his reptilian eyes. It was promptly extinguished by a hollow rage that made Hans choke back his next breath.

"A very long time ago," the man continued, both the thunder and chime of his voice muted with a menacing rumble. "It appears the times have changed indeed. Never in my existence would I have imagined concerning myself over the welfare of  _any_  mortal and his soul in this plane, to even  _bring_ myself to leave my domain to roam this place and observe him. Peculiar how that came about.

"And now I find myself fretting over the very mortal that went about and killed me in her ignorance due to the fact that she's responsible for whatever happened to you and could likely reverse it." The man's gaze turned inward for a moment, then redirected his attention to Hans. "Ah, a discussion in the garden. She doesn't seem harmed in any way. And everyone else is accounted for. Good."

###

To Queen Elsa, the Southern Isles wasn't that much different compared to Arendelle. Sure, the climate was a tad bit warmer where she was since the castle of the royal family was a lot more inland than her own back home. The people gave off a vibe of being more on-edge than in Arendelle, too, even  _after_ the disaster that struck over a year ago.

It was understandable, though. King Pieter the First's reign caused the people live more prudently and isolated, exacerbated even more so when their once-friendly neighbor Arendelle shut access to their leaders. And then suddenly having a near one-eighty in policies when King Pieter the Second took the throne. Change, while it could be beneficial, can cause great stress after all.

Other than the climate of both the weather and the people, the Southern Isles was remarkably similar to Arendelle. Even the garden where Prince Holger decided for the two of them to speak privately reminded her of the one back at home with the familiar flora that carpeted the place.

She hoped Anna and Kristoff were faring well.

"What's bothering you, Prince Holger?" Elsa asked.

Holger looked over his shoulder, paranoid, before turning to her and murmuring in a low voice, "I've come to a terrible realization, Your Majesty."

"Is this about Hans?" Elsa said, reciprocating the need to not be overheard.

"Yes, as well as the death of Father and Mother, and the king's sudden ability to be aggressive, and…" Holger closed his eyes and let out a long exhale. "Please don't mention this to anyone. After all, I am only a doctor in medical science and have negligible skill in deduction. I'll leave the true detective work to Anders. However…" Holger looked over his shoulder again.

"You and I both agree that Hans was poisoned, correct?" he continued.

"Yes," she replied.

"And you agree with Hans that he was poisoned by the Order of the Lynx?"

"Correct."

"Whose suggestion was it to bring Hans here instead of back to your kingdom?"

"It was King Pieter's."

Holger looked around again. "You were told that my mother and father died to illness, right?"

Elsa nodded.

"It isn't true," Holger said. "They died to poisoning. But my brother Pieter said to keep silent about it. We didn't know the culprits, and we didn't want to worry the rest of the brothers, so he and I agreed to keep quiet until we find out more. I know it's macabre and likely frowned upon by my other medical peers since it's outside of my specialty, but I collected the blood of my parents to study the poison in their bodies. I later made an antidote."

"What… what are you saying?"

"That poison… I've never seen it before, and I've never encountered it again. I had to cease production of the antidote because the temporary embargo of outgoing trade as Pieter transitioned to being king brought the prices too high, not to mention that there hadn't been a need for it ever again. That is, until Pieter suggested to bring Hans here for treatment after getting poisoned by the Order."

"Did he know about the antidote?"

"Of course. Pieter was the one to suggest it. But how did he know that it was  _the_  antidote that would save him?"

"You're probably the best physician he knows?"

Holger shook his head. "Far from it. Queen Elsa, I know you're trying to give my older brother the benefit of the doubt, but please tell me that you aren't at least a  _little_ suspicious of him."

Elsa looked to her hands and clasped them together. She didn't want to admit it, but deep down she knew something wasn't quite adding up about Pieter. He kept secrets, despite seeming so open about himself to everyone. He seemed like a completely different person when reprimanding his brothers.

He constantly showed himself to be harmless, insecure. Yet Elsa knew firsthand he was anything but. Still, she saw him as a stranger. His brothers would know him better than she would, after all.

"You believe him to be capable of betrayal, Prince Holger?" Elsa asked.

A somber look from Holger. "That's the thing that bothers me: I don't know."

###

"Kristoff!" greeted a worried Bulda in the forest clearing. "You should have been more careful coming out here! What would you have done if you fell off of Sven?"

Kristoff, still atop the back of the reindeer, rolled his eyes good-naturedly and grinned. "He'd have picked me back up again. Sven's a lot more careful than that."

Bulda tsked and crossed her arms, but the corner of her mouth was pulled into an amused smirk.

She opened her mouth to say something, but the words were caught in her throat as she pulled a hand to her head, her face contorted into discomfort.

"Bulda!" Granpabbie called, shambling over to her and Kristoff. "Something has happened with the land."

"You felt it, too?" she asked.

He nodded. "That worries me."

"What? Felt what?" Kristoff said.

"The Land left its domain."

Kristoff hold upon Sven's neck weakened a little. That didn't sound good. "It left? What does that mean?"

Granpabbie rubbed the side of his temples, eyes squinting in mild pain. "I do not know. It's as if there's a void where its essence used to be, like it packed up and left its domain in the magical realm."

"I'll check on the young ones," Bulda said. "They might be frightened at what they're sensing right now."

"Good idea."

"What should we do? Do you think Queen Elsa or Prince Hans had something to do with it?" Kristoff asked.

"For now, all we can do is be cautious and observant of everything, especially the earth beneath our feet. You must bring this news to Princess Anna and have Arendelle be ready for another potential disaster. As for if the queen or the prince are responsible… I fear this might be the case."

###

Hans was distracted from the spectacle of the apparition-like man at his bedside to a few knocks on the door. The door swung open and in stepped King Pieter.

"Hans! Oh, thank goodness you're awake!" Pieter said. "The servants let me know as–"

Pieter froze, his eyes narrowed into slits as they scanned across the room. Slowly, with hinges protesting the movement, the king shut the door behind himself.

The pale, white-haired man just continued to stare at Hans, as if he didn't notice the entrance of the king.

Bewildered, Hans' irises flicked back and forth between his brother and the spirit, his eyebrows knitting together slightly.

" _Amh'skelajas ikh,"_ Pieter mumbled under his breath, his eyes still scanning for a presence he felt but didn't seem able to see.

The spirit-man stiffened, his head looking over his shoulder, his eyes flickering of anger.

"Again, there's a mortal invoking me," he said. "Well, one that isn't  _you,_ of course."

Wait a minute… they couldn't see each other? Well, sure, that was probably understandable in Pieter's part, since he wasn't in a whole mess of anything magic-related like Hans himself was. The land should be aware of Pieter, right? After all, he knew where everyone was, at least that's what he assumed when he said "everyone was accounted for."

Also… where in the world did Pieter learn that name?

King Pieter crept closer to Hans' bedside, eyes still looking around in suspicion and…

Hostility?

There was no warning when Pieter used one hand to clamp down on Hans' mouth and another to crush his windpipe.

"How in the world a cursed  _cretin_  like you could ever find the favor of Amh'skelajas, I'll never understand," Pieter whispered emotionlessly. "But hey, my plans never failed, no matter how impossible it always seems. Things always fall into place just for me."

Hans bucked his feet, trying to find purchase on the bed to ease the pressure against his throat as he clawed and pried at the inhumanely strong vice Pieter had on him.

Wait. Wait. Why wasn't the curse affecting Pieter? He should be a tortured mess by now!

"Your curse can't hurt a man that has no soul, Hans," Pieter said. "And yes, I knew  _exactly_  what you were thinking. Just like I knew Elias was a seer that knew too much and that the Order of the Lynx had the resources for me to claim what's rightfully mine."

Pieter released his hold on Hans' face and neck, grabbed onto his collar, and threw him into the dresser in the corner of the room, shattering it into pieces.

"They told me I had a great responsibility," Pieter said, placing a heavy boot against Hans' chest to keep him from getting up. "That I was going to go down in history with the gift of power I was given. Such as that woman who went from rags to the luxury of a kingdom because of people like me. Such as that other woman who was raised by a trio of people like me to help protect her from a curse. Such as that one who brought life to some rotting puppet.

"But what's the use of power if you're not going to use it to its full potential? Why train just so I would be some background character instead of the one having their 'happily ever after.' Besides, I'm not like other mortals. I have no emotions that will cloud judgement. I have no soul that is so easily corrupted. I have the power to alter reality. I am the closest to perfection itself. Why did those foolish people before me show that much restraint?

"I'll tell you why, little brother. They had no creativity. Why, they could've very well been the master of Fate itself if they tried hard enough. And thanks to your sociopathic upbringing–that I was pretty much responsible for, by the way–you've made decisions that I couldn't make without garnering too much negative attention. Aiding in the weakening of the land, getting all the blame put on you, you taking the responsibility of all those sacrifices that further tempered and softened my adversary… And it worked wonderfully! So, now that I'm done with you as I was done with Elias…"

Hans' eyes grew wide as Pieter magically manifested an axe out of thin air. He tried to cry out for help, but his mangled throat only created a weak gasp of air.

"Too bad the poisoning didn't work in subduing your mind," Pieter continued. "You could've been so much more useful as a puppet like our parents and the rest of our siblings. Alas, you just know too much."

It was probably the most pathetic thought to ever cross Hans' mind, but he wondered if anything about his brother was ever real. Pieter was the one who started bringing the family together. Pieter was the one who never tortured or betray him like the others. Pieter even said he loved all of them, even helped to raise them when Father slacked in many ways.

Was it love? With everything, was it all a lie?

"Oh, Hans," Pieter sniffed. A tiny frown indicated that he had just read his mind. "Love is such a…  _strong_  word."

The land's spirit looked shaken, his hand rubbing against his chest as his image started to fade into transparency. He glided to where Hans was on the floor, passing through Pieter like a ghost and falling to his knees as the axe descended towards the prince's head.

Hans shut his eyes.


	11. It Ended and Began

"Prince Holger! Queen Elsa!" a young servant called, rushing into the garden. Behind him, Elsa could see a stream of guards running into the castle.

"What is it?" Prince Holger asked, getting up from his seat in alarm.

"The door to Prince Hans' room is locked! King Pieter went to see him, then we heard crashing and screaming, and we can't get to either of them!"

Elsa didn't hesitate to sprint to the prince's chamber, hoisting the skirt of her dress to her knees to keep from falling over. She heard her steps creaking with ice, worried out of her wits for Hans' wellbeing. She finally found him. She finally had him safe.

She was  _not_  going to let anything get between that. Especially a door.

She sprinted past the guards, overtaking them in her hurry. The door to Hans' room was already being worked on by a few people, some kicking the door while others tried to bust the lock off.

It wasn't a prison door, for goodness sake. Why was it so hard to break down?

They backed away when they saw the queen approach. Elsa blasted the door with an icy wind, freezing it. Then she cracked the brittle wood with a pillar of ice, creating an opening. She stepped into the gap, hands raised and ready to take on whatever danger was in the room with her.

The frost in the air cleared, and she saw King Pieter pinning down a man to the floor with his the entire weight of his body. The man had an axe in his hands, blood dripping from the blade.

Elsa looked to the bed in the room and found it empty of Prince Hans.

"Look away, Queen Elsa," sobbed King Pieter. "This  _monster_  just killed my brother, and I intend him to pay dearly. To think he served this family for years!"

…killed?

"You will be next, King Pieter," hissed the man on the floor. "Prince Hans may have bested my comrades, but the Order of the Lynx lives on!"

It was then that Elsa looked to the corner of the room, just barely hidden out of view by the bed and pieces of what used to be a wooden wardrobe. Pooling into her line of sight was an ever-growing puddle of blood and a very still hand that lay limp on top of it.

"Pieter! Hans!" gasped a distraught Prince Holger leaping through the broken doorway. His shoulders slacked slightly upon seeing his king okay, though disheveled from what appeared to be a scuffle with the man on the floor. He paled when he noticed another body on the floor and walked over to it.

Holger covered a sob with both hands over his mouth and dropped to his knees to the still form just out of view from the queen.

Seeing his brother's reaction, King Pieter turned his head away, shutting his eyes tightly. His hold on the man on the floor stiffened, and the man winced at the vice grip.

Elsa's heart sank as if it knew who it was that lay dead on the floor. It couldn't have been anyone else, after all. But the little ray of hope that maybe all of this wasn't real, that the two brothers were mourning the loss of one of the other brothers.

It was heartless of her to think that, she knew.

The queen shuffled unsure steps to where Holger was, wanting and not wanting to catch a glimpse of the murder victim. Once she did, she wasn't able to look away.

On the floor, head severed from his own body, laying in his own blood that poured from his neck was Prince Hans.

Elsa backed up in shock, still staring the body as her back impacted the wall behind her, knocking paintings off to clatter to the floor. The ground beneath her feet began to frost over and creep up the wall behind her. The ice climbed to touch the ceiling, icicles pointing wickedly at the queen.

Then, the body turned to solid ice, causing Holger to stand up in surprise.

A tiny spark of hope lit itself in the queen's chest. It was not the end. Not yet. Just like with Anna, right? She turned to solid ice, but she came back! She was alright in the end!

The spark got smothered when the ice turned to ash, then disappeared from existence completely. Only the blood remained.

Elsa couldn't take it anymore.

She ran out of the room. Out of the castle. She ran through the square of the city that surrounded the royal castle of the Southern Isles. She ran into the forest.

Finally, she stopped.

She fell to her hands and knees and wept.

###

"No, no, no, Queen Elsa said that since this is low priority, we can can delay the proceedings until she returns," a councilman said.

Princess Anna hid her face behind an open palm, wanting to be anywhere else but holding a meeting with the Council. Like with Kristoff, wherever he went off to with Sven earlier today. Besides, her mind wasn't even in the meeting she was holding anyway. Her thoughts kept drifting on the whereabouts of her husband and how her sister was faring in the Southern Isles.

It was, after all, Elsa's first voyage on her own  _anywhere._ It stung a little that her sister didn't want to bring her along. Elsa was going headlong into danger, and with all the risks involved, so many things could turn deadly in a moment.

"Perhaps," another councilman said. "And though it behooves me to say it, I've started to reciprocate the public's feelings regarding our queen."

"Are you insinuating that we go against our monarch's wishes?"

"Heavens, no! I'm just expressing that my support of her has been a bit less rosy as of late. What with losing my children last year and my estate still in ruins, it's difficult to keep up my optimism in any authority. Including my own."

"Then why suggest we build up our military? One can't recruit any more soldiers if those who are to join the ranks have no place to stay."

"It was just a suggestion. The summit will be held either here or the Southern Isles. If anything goes awry and just one of the leaders declares war on Arendelle or her ally, we will be without any defense."

"He's right, you know," Princess Anna said, trying not to be insensitive and not take part in the meeting, especially since that one councilman bore his heart on his sleeve with that statement. It was best not to completely crush his faith in Elsa by not helping him on her behalf.

"The more we find out about the Order of the Lynx," Anna continued, "the more we find out that we pretty much know nothing. Queen Elsa and King Pieter intend to see if we can do anything about the Order, but we can't know for sure if any of the leaders themselves are Order members either."

"Are you certain that your sister isn't a part of the Order?" asked the uncertain councilman.

A flare of anger lit inside of Anna at the insinuation that Elsa could be untrustworthy, but she bit her lip and fell silent for a moment. As much as she loved Elsa, she knew being ignorant and naïve could be dangerous. Despite how confident she was that Elsa would never hurt her, it was her naiveté not to amend that with "on purpose."

"No one can know anything for certain," Anna replied. "But constantly being distrustful of others isn't how I want to live, councilman."

The minister considered her words for a moment and nodded. "Then how do you think we should proceed, Your Highness?"

Oh goodness. Decision-making. Definitely not something she was good at, especially with something huge enough that it will affect the entire kingdom. Then again…

"My sister wants to delay the proceedings, which means she intends to do it when she gets back," Anna said. "Do any of you have any reason to hasten the schedule?"

A resounding "no" throughout the meeting room.

Suddenly, a tangible tension hung in the air. Instincts made the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end. The council members murmured amongst themselves, just as unsure as the princess was as to what was going on.

It was as if the world stood still.

Shouts surprise and the clattering of silverware sounded from the hallway outside. The grunt of a reindeer could be heard at the door to the meeting room. All the inhabitants within looked curiously at the door.

"Anna!" came the voice of her husband. One of the councilmen stood from his seat and opened the door, revealing Kristoff clinging on to Sven's neck with a death grip.

Anna immediately rushed to Kristoff's side and helped him off of Sven into an empty seat.

"They… My family… They said the land just… left," Kristoff said in a daze. He looked around, finally coming to himself. "You feel that?"

He must have been referring to the tension in the air.

"Yeah," Anna said.

"They said for everyone to keep an eye out."

Anna pursed her lips. Then, to the gathered ministers, "Get started on building the military."

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, but didn't you just say to wait—" a councilman began to retort before being interrupted by the princess.

"I know what I said, but right now having soldiers keeping a lookout is better than normal citizens, right?"

###

Elsa sat under a tree, knees pulled close to her torso under her chin. Her face was red and raw from crying, but it seemed her body no longer was able to produce tears. All along the tree's length was a thin coating of ice, icicles hanging menacingly from branches directly above her, reenacting the moment before she broke down in Hans' room to later flee.

It was so hard to keep control and reign in the ice, the desire to let go and release her grief in a display of wintry power almost too impossible to resist.

But she didn't. For all she knew she might doom another hapless victim to a similar fate that Hans had. Someone else's dearly loved one.

She felt cold droplets splat and patter against her head. Elsa looked up, confused at why her ice was melting all of a sudden, but was met with a thick cloudy sky that poured rain upon the kingdom of the Southern Isles. She didn't recall there being a single cloud in the sky when she was in the garden with Prince Holger earlier. The queen wouldn't be surprised if the forces of nature were mourning the loss of Prince Hans as well. After all, the land seemed too attached to him.

Oh no, if Hans was gone…

She let the rains drizzle upon her, the dampness and grey around her muting the sudden fear of the pixies searching out another to carry out the land's sacrifices.

No. No more. Elsa should be the one to do it, she was the one who started this madness in the first place.

Resolved, she stood up from her position underneath the tree. She needed to get to Arendelle. She needed to talk to the trolls and see if she could be Hans' substitute. She needed to get back to the castle and make sure Hans' killer was dealt with accordingly. She needed to make the sure Order of the Lynx would never harm anyone ever again. She needed to do something,  _anything_  than just staying still.

"Your Majesty!" echoed a voice in the distance. "Queen Elsa! We need you!"

The scent of a summer storm approaching intermingled with damp soil and the musk of the forest wafted into her nose. She inhaled deeply, called her ice to recede, gathered the wet skirts of her dress around her, and made her way to the man calling her.

No more weeping. The skies were doing enough of it for years to come.

###

In the Southern Isles, the dungeons were found underground. The air was stale, the only sources of light were the torches along the walls. There was a dampness that clung to Elsa's skin, even after changing into a dry set of clothes once she returned to the castle, the moisture likely from the rain that seeped slowly through the stone walls of the dungeon. Mold stuck to the rock, evidence of storms past.

Elsa wouldn't be surprised if Hans had to spend an extended period of time in such a place. Her heart ached at the thought of him, but grit her teeth and went back to business as usual. Having another break down in front of the murderer was unacceptable. Having one in front of the Westergaard brothers would make it even is why she needed to confront this man on her own.

It all boiled down to her, after all. If it weren't for her, Hans would still be alive. The land wouldn't have died from her powers.

But then Anna and Kristoff wouldn't have had a reason to be together. And what would have happened if she still kept her powers a secret until now? What then?

 _The past is in the past,_  she reminded herself, though half-heartedly.  _All we can do is keep moving forward._

"Why did you kill him?" she asked to the assassin, her voice frail and uncertain, a near whisper.

Silence.

The assassin, shackled at the wrist and ankles to the cell wall, stared blankly at her. A shiver went up Elsa's spine at the look. It reminded her eerily of those poor servants dying before her in Weselton.

"Why does the Order of the Lynx believe that killing will achieve whatever it is they wish to accomplish?" she continued.

Silence.

Then, in a tiny, desperate croak through a blank, mechanical face, "King Pieter… killed the prince…"

The man began convulsing, causing the queen to leap back in surprise. He let out pained shrieks and gasps. Then he fell lifeless against the wall, eyes wide open but no luster of living spirit within then any more.

"Queen Elsa!" came the familiar voice of Prince Magnus. "King Pieter has disappeared!"

###

It felt like his lungs were on fire.

Hans tried to breathe. Tried to move his chest to have a gasp of air. He tried to open his eyes. To move his arms and legs. To move  _anything._

But he couldn't. There was a crushing weight around every inch of his body getting stronger and stronger. He couldn't tell if he was standing or lying down. Surely he should be dead by now. Pieter was going to kill him. If this was evidence of anything, it proved that he'd died and went to hell.

He couldn't tell the passing of time. He wasn't sure if he was in this state for a few hours or for years.

It was torture, but at the same time, Hans knew it could certainly go worse. He still had his wits about him.

Slowly, the pressure all around him began to lessen. He found that he could open his eyes and saw the bright blue sky above. He gasped for air, and finally felt the refreshing breeze fill his lungs and easing the fire within them. He took a few more desperate deep breaths to make sure.

Whatever that was, it was over.

Hans sat up to get a better look at his surroundings. As soon as he did so, he was met with two pairs of eyes from two glowing beings of ethereal white.

Hans scooted back in surprise and held out one hand to keep them at bay, as if that would prevent them from harming him. But upon second glance, he realized he recognized their faces.

Klaus. Mikelo.

Hans was dead. He was definitely dead this time.

"Brother! It's so good to see you well again!" said the being that looked like Klaus.

Hans was stunned to silence, his mouth gaping slightly as he tried to wrap his mind around seeing his brother again.

He wanted to run up and hug Klaus. He wanted to run far away. To scream, to cry, to laugh, to sigh, to sing, to punch him so hard in the jaw to send him back to whatever dimension he belonged in.

Unless wherever Hans ended up  _wasn't_  the dimension he himself was familiar with. He checked his arms and face, seeing that they were solid and that he was as alive as he always was.

Wait.

He held his hands together to make sure.

The curse! It was gone!

…what happened to him!?

"Tell the others that it worked."

That… was not his voice. His lips were moving, and he felt the vibration of sound through his throat. He was also not the one consciously making the decision to talk.

The land… did he or it gain control of him again?

"So… can we stick around?" the spirit that looked like Mikelo asked.

"Yes," the voice that wasn't his replied.

Hans shut him mouth and held his hands on top of them. What in the world was that? Who was answering through him?

 _Relax,_  a voice ran through his thoughts. Familiar, but the feeling of invasion that usually accompanied it was gone.  _It is only me. I still need to communicate with them and then I'll explain more._

"What's going on?" Hans asked aloud in his own voice, hoping the two apparitions or the voice in his head would give him answers.

"Well… you died," Mikelo said. "But Klaus and I were able to keep you from going off into the afterlife."

"Unfortunately, it did mean that your body kinda… went off without you, but don't worry, we got you a new one," Klaus continued.

Hans was afraid to ask. "Meaning…?"

 _I had to procure one,_  the voice in his head said.  _But it appears that we have to share until you die again. I've… inadvertently had our consciousnesses fused in trying to save you._

A sudden rush of cold cut through his veins, causing him to double over and wait the pain out. Hans laid back down onto the ground, not wanting to move.

"Are you alright?" Klaus asked, reaching out to help Hans, but his hand passed through his shoulder.

"We must find the sorceress," the land's voice said, pained. "This heart is still frozen and without my immortal form, I am unable to stop it."

 _I don't think I can do it,_  Hans thought.  _Everything hurts._

 _Rest your spirit,_  the land assured.  _I will bring us to her. Being alive once more will leave the two of us exhausted, but at least I still have some stamina left._

 _"_ You," the land said, pointing at Mikelo. "Find a mode of transportation."

Mikelo gave a happy salute. "On it, milord."

The land turned Hans' shared head to Klaus. "Have you found the whereabouts of the queen?"

"Up the North Mountain. She's still in hiding after all these months. Her fortress is impenetrable."

"Months?" Hans asked aloud. "In hiding?"

Unless he was gone for longer than he thought. What happened to have forced Elsa into hiding? Why a fortress?

 _Winter is now approaching instead of being seasons away,_ the land explained.  _And with it, I'll be weakening. Hopefully before then, we can find vengeance against your killer._

Hans took in his surroundings once more. In the distance he could see an impossibly tall mountain on the horizon. The North Mountain.

"Where am I?" Hans asked.

 _"_ Prince Hans?"

The prince turned around in a start to find the owner of the new voice. He found it was one of the trolls that helped him commune with the land when he first made it to Arendelle. The troll flinched and held up one of his crystals, the mineral glowing in warning.

The troll began to chant softly, but for some reason Hans was able to heard his voice as clear as day and as loud as an angry storm.

_"Amh'skelajas, lüj okh'lorai, o laj ejahin lüjin ajas."_

_"Selüsin jekasin,_  to you, too," the land replied for Hans. "There's no sending me anywhere, child. I'm stuck  _here_ , now."

The troll's knees buckled, then he stumbled off away from Hans. The land made Hans wave a hand after the fleeing troll, but then he growled in frustration.

 _I'm assuming what he said wasn't very nice,_  Hans thought. There was no internal reply in kind.

"Find me my scythe, will you?" the land instructed Klaus instead.

"On it, sir."


	12. Kingdom of Ice

Despite it all going so wrong, Elsa was thankful that, for Arendelle, everything in comparison went so right. At least in the decisions that were made.

As soon as she heard the accused servant point to King Pieter into murdering Prince Hans in his dying breath and the patriarch's sudden disappearance, Queen Elsa fled to Arendelle. It was probably irrational, especially since her emotions were running high and her ability to consider her moves carefully wasn't present, but all she could think about was that King Pieter was highly suspect, had the ability to be very dangerous, and she knew she just couldn't trust anyone; not to mention that she was in a land far away from her familiar homeland and her kingdom was without its ruler.

It was fortunate that she let Anna run the place in her absence. Building the military proved to be a boon as soon as she set foot back into Arendelle's docks. Had the fortification of Arendelle's defenses been delayed until she returned, they couldn't possibly have been prepared enough when spies from the Southern Isles itself was found within the borders.

Many letters were sent, asking why there was sudden hostility between the two kingdoms; all of them ended up either being ignored or as a prewritten response of "at a later time" by their council. More and more, Arendelle's defenses were tested by spies and acts of subterfuge; less and less was Elsa able to understand  _why._

The Westergaard twins as well as Rasmus had decided to stay in Arendelle when the uncharacteristic responses from their homeland came in. They had even tried to send letters on her behalf, hoping that family would have more sway into a proper response; but those, too, went without any reply.

They no longer bothered her, fortunately. Breaking the news of Hans' death, yet another of their siblings having an untimely demise, had humbled them enough to keep in her good graces. Partially it was due to them grieving. Partially due to their uncertain futures. Maybe the thought that King Pieter was, in fact, brewing up something sinister had a factor.

She didn't want to think that they were avoiding her because she was becoming cold and dangerous in her mourning. No, she needed to keep a level head. Once things settled down, she'd let herself cry it out and be done with it. Life and the world would move on, long after she herself would pass away. She would be fine.

Besides, it probably was best that she didn't see them often. She'd see glimpses of him, in their eyes, or their gait, or their intonation… Then it would bring up these feelings that she had no time to dwell on.

The tiniest bit of insight into what exactly was going on in the Southern Isles came through bits of scraps of paper smuggled in shipments of maize from Spain, written by Prince Aleksander, and with them were letters that she herself had sent out prior. Another benefit for increasing Arendelle's defense, since the supply shipments were combed thoroughly for the uneventful, but surprisingly likely, spy that would hide themselves in the crates and barrels. It turned out to be yet another season of filling prisons for the kingdom.

Given the secretiveness of the scraps of paper, she didn't want to risk trying to figure out how he was able to get them to Arendelle. If her hunches about what she deciphered from the messages were right, things were looking very terrible for the Southern Isles.

Every instance of her letters where she would write "King Pieter" or "Your Majesty" were blotted out with drips of red ink. Multiple arrows pointed every instance of "Arendelle." As for "the Southern Isles," they were poked through in the page many times and outlined in red.

The scraps of paper each had Prince Aleksander's signature, "King Pieter Westergaard" written multiple times surrounded with tiny sketches of butterflies, and a single word at the bottom.

Strife. Evil. Confusion. Envy. The other words likely helped with their context, but it was difficult to put it all together.

"It looks like some kind of puzzle," Kristoff had remarked when Elsa shared the pieces of paper to him and Anna.

"I thought so as well," Elsa said. She had hoped that they would know how to solve it, but they appeared as clueless as she was.

"We should ask one of his brothers that are still here," Anna suggested.

When asked, Rasmus gave them a rare expression of worry upon seeing the returned letters.

"Sander is always into symbolism," he remarked, tracing the additions the twelfth-born had put into Elsa's letters. "Simple symbolism, but nonetheless needs an interpreter."

"Do you know what he might mean about this letter?" Elsa asked.

"It all depends on if he added something else as context."

She showed him the bits of parchment.

"Hmm…" Rasmus shuffled the pieces of paper around, flipping over each one multiple times. "He certainly wanted to make sure you didn't doubt that it was him sending you this message."

Rasmus' face returned to its familiar bored expression. "Now, if I were Aleksander…" He moved the pieces next to one another, lining them up and observing them. Then, he pulled them aside with purpose, his eyes alight with an idea the other's weren't yet privy to.

"And there we have it," Rasmus said.  _"'For where envying and strife is, there is confusion and every evil work.'_ Sanders was always trying to push James onto me, says that the book helped him get better; thought it would help me. I guess since he knew I'd be staying in Arendelle, I'd help you guys decipher what he was trying to say.

"Since he didn't give anything to tell me to use this quote in context, I'm going to assume he's using it as some kind of message instead of trying to tell me that I'm not behaving properly. Now, given the letters and the scraps of paper, I'd suggest you turn your attentions away from the Southern Isles and try to find a place for your citizens to be safe, Your Majesty."

"Specifically from what?"

"Well, it looks like with how Aleksander treated 'King Pieter' and 'the Southern Isles' in your letters, I'm going to assume that he's responsible for whatever's troubling the kingdom. Arendelle appears to be next. Though the  _how_  is what's eluding me. Do tiny butterflies mean anything to you?"

"No…" Elsa trailed off. She held up one of the scraps of paper, specifically the one that had "evil" written on the bottom. The butterflies on these ones looked slightly different than on the other pieces. They had fewer limbs that were longer and human faces.

Pixies.

She set down the piece of paper, hands unsteady.

"Find as many guards, servants, and councilmen that you can. Tell them that we need to evacuate Arendelle.  _Now._ "

###

"Elsa, I think you need to… ease up a bit," Anna said. "You're really worrying me."

"I'm fine, Anna," came the terse reply, the scratch of the metal nib of the queen's pen against parchment squeaking more than normal. "I just need to make sure we get to safety, and then I can relax."

"No, you aren't. You and I both know that's a lie. You haven't even  _talked_  to me about this ever since you came back."

Elsa put down her pen and closed her eyes. She sighed, "How are the evacuation efforts going?"

"Good, even though it's short notice – but will you just  _listen_ , Elsa?"

"I am listening."

"No, really.  _Listen_  to me. I know that it's a completely different story, but when Kristoff and I were trying to come to terms with his… condition… the only way we were able to move past it was to  _talk_ about it. With  _you._  Because you wouldn't judge us. Because you cared. Because you loved us as family. What is holding you back from doing the same? It's killing me to see you like this!"

"That's the thing, Anna…" Elsa folded her hands atop her desk, eyes avoiding her sister. "I… I loved him. I had hope for him… I thought that, once I found him and brought him back to Arendelle…"

Elsa paused. Swallowed.

"…and to see him mutilated like that… I'm afraid that talking about it would be like having to relive it all over again. Just like that feeling when I thought I killed you…" She shook her head. "I'm not ready, not when my people might suffer from whatever the pixies have in store."

The queen returned to writing her letter. Anna huffed and placed a hand on top of the page. Elsa stopped writing and looked up.

"There's something else, isn't there, Elsa?" Anna said.

"Hans is dead," Elsa said matter-of-factly. "But in my heart, I can't explain it… It's like when our parents were killed at sea; all those months of not knowing until the ship was found and their bodies finally sent to Arendelle to be buried.

"But it makes no sense. I  _saw_ hiscorpse. I  _know_  that he's gone. I'd have nightmares about it, but recently all my nightmares are of him suffocating in the dark. I can't keep holding onto hope like this… Because if I do, I can't move on. I can never let myself love another."

"Elsa…"

The queen stood from her desk. "After I get these sent, we leave. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

###

Under the supervision of Kristoff, since he was the only citizen of Arendelle who was intimately familiar with the surrounding wilds, the queen led her people to the mountains. Every cart, wagon, sled, and carriage was filled with as many people and belongings as they could fit; the beasts of burden tugging them in a rushed pace.

Everyone was fearful, especially once they heard of the causes of the demise of the nearby kingdom of the Southern Isles. But their only consolation was that it fell because their ruler was the one responsible, Arendelle's own monarch was the one who could match the power of King Pieter. At least that's what they wanted to believe.

It was a miracle everyone was able to obey. Even after their kingdom was threatened with destruction years prior, the near-destruction about a year later, and even after the wavering support for their queen afterward; they still stood loyal to Elsa and followed through with her plan.

She wished she had even half of their assurance in her for herself.

They met with the trolls not long after their exodus, the beings casting a spell to help obscure the Arendellian's tracks in a way that the pixies wouldn't be able to follow them if they were sent out to scout.

"You need to lead your people to the North Mountain, Queen Elsa," granpabbie said.

"Why there? It's too harsh, and there aren't enough resources around to sustain this many people," Elsa said.

"The trolls and I will worry about the resources. You just bring your people to safety and ensure it in the best way you know how."

"What if I don't? I failed to do it before…" She couldn't think of him. Not now. Hopefully, if she could convince herself, not ever.

The troll leader held both of her hands in his and stared into her eyes. "Your magic is special, Queen Elsa. You could choose to kill and maim, or conjure masterpieces and imbue it with life; and either way, it won't be against its nature. That, and you having as pure a heart as you do, you can protect them. I know you can." He released his hold on her. "Now go. I sense the pixies have made their entrance. They are searching."

As she and her people left the trolls' clearing, Bulda shouted after her, "And take care of our Kristoff! We'll be visiting soon to make sure!"

###

She never thought she would have found herself up here again. The ice palace felt like such a distant memory, she rarely found herself wondering if the frozen wonder melted after all this time.

But as it was, Elsa was astounded to see that it looked exactly like the day she made it.

Her intents were to have them wait inside, away from the icy wind and snow, as she created better accommodations for them. Despite the ice palace's size and grandeur, it wasn't practical and had surprisingly little living space. It was merely something beautiful to look at.

However, as they approached it and as she repaired the destroyed ice bridge in front, a large rumbling roar echoed through the palace. The large, icy doors swung open, revealing a giant snowman with dangerous icicles protruding from its back.

Marshmallow.

The citizens cowered in fear. Elsa stood her ground and continued repairing the bridge back to its former glory.

Upon seeing his creator at work, he relaxed and retracted the spikes into his body, his stature friendly and submissive. Tiny voices laughed and chattered as miniature snowmen spilled out of the palace.

Oh. Right. She forgot about the other occupants of the ice palace.

"Marshmallow!" Olaf greeted, rushing up the steps. "And my many other brothers! Hi!"

"I need all of you to behave yourselves," Elsa instructed all of them. "Marshmallow, I need you out here with me." She turned to the citizens. "I'll need everyone else inside as I try to expand this sanctuary."

Everyone did as they were told with no argument.

Maybe she  _could_  do this.

###

Elsa first started with large abodes that could house multiple families, the dwellings simple but a lot more practical than the ice palace. She didn't want to get too fancy since she didn't want to spend too much time trying to build accommodations when she could be spending the rest of the day in creating defenses.

She created roads between creations, packing and solidifying the snow for safe travel between buildings. She created a large dome of ice to surround the entire ice-city to keep the cold out and the heat inside, making sure to leave a large hole at the top for ventilation and another one at the path that lead down the North Mountain for those who wish to hunt and for the trolls to have a way in and out. (She recalled them being called "igloos" from one of her books in the library.

She walked out of the domed city and began to create walls, and created more snowmen like Marshmallow to guard the perimeter. She created watchtowers for the soldiers of Arendelle, as well as barracks for them when they needed to be relieved of their watch.

Lastly, with large sweeps of both of her hands, she conjured up a large snowstorm to help obscure the large creations from those looking on in the distance, hiding the ice city from wayward glances.

Satisfied, she went back to her ice palace, letting her citizens settle down in their new settlement. Each person looked on in wonder at her magical efforts, the children pointing and gawking with glee.

Elsa didn't stay long. She was too tired from all the work.

She retired into her ice palace and slept.

###

Hans took control when they drew close to where he knew Arendelle was. There was a bit of a struggle, the land not expecting the prince to be up to the task just yet.

 _Are you sure?_ the land asked.  _I sense the scythe nearby._

 _Yes,_ Hans replied.  _And_ especially _since you sense the scythe anywhere near Arendelle. Something's not right here._

Not a moment after the internal exchange was made, a voice boomed in the distance.

"He is here. The scythe has reactivated."

Pieter.

Hans took cover behind a large tree trunk, straining his ears for anyone approaching. He subconsciously rubbed at this neck as he recalled his last memory of his eldest brother. Terror of his sibling and the unknown powers he possessed glued Hans to the side of the tree, his feet ready to take flight.

Klaus flew into view. Hans flinched. The former put a finger over his lips and used his other hand to signal the latter to stay put.

"I found it," Klaus reported. "But there's a lot of soldiers around. Hans, what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything but die, apparently," Hans hissed, keeping his voice low. "But the land here did  _something_  to rile Pieter up for some reason. And because I'm attached to him for some reason, he's going to take it out on me by default."

 _I have a name, you know,_ the land said.  _Amh'skelajas isn't so hard to remember._

Hans rolled his eyes and responded out loud. "No one has the  _time."_

 _"_ I lost track of Count Mikelo, but I did find some of our brothers, Hans. They're…  _off_  somehow. I can't quite put my incorporeal finger on it. It's like they're not all there."

 _Are you aware of what might be the cause of this?_ the land asked.

 _No,_  Hans responded.

The land took over talking. "Go and hide yourself, Prince Klaus. Considering the variables, neither I nor the reaper are sure you could be spotted by these new adversaries."

 _I, too, have a name, you know,_ Hans protested.  _And it's much easier to pronounce. How hard is it to remember a monosyllabic name?_

The land outwardly chuckled. Hans grumbled under his breath outwardly afterward.

Klaus gave the two of them a puzzled look before silently saluting and taking off into the sky.

 _I'm taking over,_  the land insisted.

 _Oh no, you aren't,_ Hans gave as a rebuttal.

_I insist._

_No. I am_ not _going to let you take control of me._

_And why not?_

_Well, there was that one time you tried to have everyone in Arendelle killed after Queen Elsa just wanted to entertain the guests._

_She was going to kill me!_

_She wasn't!_

The feeling that overcame him was a strange one. The closest he could come to logically describing it was the tension he felt when having a staring contest with one of his brothers when he was little, the anticipation of the inevitable event that one would blink, then both would blink and rub at dry eyes.

Except that it was all internal, and he couldn't quite shake the feeling that his competitor in the staring contest would roar at him at any moment. Hans wasn't entirely certain the roaring would be completely internal either.

"Oh, long time no see!"

The internal-staring-contest-but-without-the-staring was cut short at the intrusion of the tiny voice next to his ear.

Hans retreated inward, having the land deal with the pixie.

"Zsuria," the land greeted her with his warped, clipped voice. "Increasing your amount of unsolicited visits to this plane is inadvisable. Get back to the others."

"Ah, it's  _you_ ," the pixie said. "And here I thought we finally got rid of you when you fled here. 'The mortal realm is beneath the timeless' after all. I guess getting stuck with a mortal body is close enough, no?"

The land growled. "You're trying my patience, child."

"Oh, and how does Prince Hans feel about all of this? Hm? Ever considered that? Now you'll know how it's like to be stuck with someone, relying on them for your continued existence, wanting to leave but never having the ability to do so. At least when you made the trolls they had some kind of say!"

"What are you going on about?"

The pixie crossed her arms. "It's time for new leadership. You know, some of these 'mere mortals' have got some pretty diabolical tricks up their sleeves. Consider your dynasty of balance henceforth nonexistent. Chaos will reign, as it should."

"My children… What have you  _done?"_ He reached out to grab at the tiny, psychotic maiden. She flitted away effortlessly out of reach.

 _"Adieu, et adieu._ Have fun being stuck in a mortal body!" The pixie disappeared.

Amh'skelajas growled and thrust up a hand. A metallic ringing sound whisked through the air before a firm  _smack_  of a summoned scythe in hand ceased it's travel.

"They left! Why do they always leave for humans!?"

"It went that way!" a male voice shouted in the distance. A cacophony of swords being drawn from their sheathes along with a squadron of footsteps drew closer.

Hans panicked and took control once again, the land grumbling in its corner of their shared brain at the sudden exchange in outward consciousness.

 _You gave away our position!_  Hans reprimanded.

_Zsuria would have given it away regardless. Why did you stop me from going after her?_

_Because that means you're bringing_ me  _with you. A mortal human being. Who can still die according to you. And last I recall, the pixies were the ones who did all the sacrifices before they had the_ lovely  _idea of giving that job to me. Do you_ want _to die?_

_No._

_Then just stay there and let me handle this. You're probably the least subtle out of the both of us._

Hans took off in the opposite direction from where the noises were coming from, weaving in and out and around the trees of the forest. A sudden flash of icy pain struck throughout his body, briefly distracting him from sure footing and getting his toes caught in a tree root.

His ankle twisted, a crack from both root and joint breaking as Hans tripped.

But instead of landing on hard ground, the dense soil gave way to loose, soft sand, cushioning his fall.

"What…?" he asked aloud, his mind a sea of panic and pain, trying to make sense of what happened. Surprisingly, the absence of throbbing in his ankle

 _You forget that I am the earth. I do not harm myself, for that is stupid,_  the land explained, the notes of his inner voice clipped as if he was also experiencing the broken ankle as well.  _Unlike you, obviously._

Wow. Snarky.

With a whoosh of wind and a crackle of lightning, Hans looked up to see Pieter appear out of nowhere before him. Again, Hans found himself retreating his consciousness for the land to deal with whatever magical nonsense he personally wanted no part of.

"Oh, perfect. You're right on schedule," the king said.

The land humphed and stood, dusting himself off, wincing at the twinge of pain from putting pressure on the broken ankle. "And just who do you think you are, using  _my_  gifts without my knowledge?"

"You and I both know calling it 'your' gifts isn't entirely true."

The grip of the scythe in his hands tightened. "If that's the case, you were likely sent by  _her_. Tell her I no longer want any part of whatever she's planning. Having that ice sorceress around is enough of a problem, not to mention the betrayal of your master to  _me_ is–"

The corner of Pieter's eye twitched as he interrupted, "I have no master."

"Preposterous! I made it so magic will align itself to–"

"I have no master because I'm the one to take your place."

Pieter conjured a sword and swung it with a single motion, his strike parried by the thick wooden handle of the scythe. Pieter shoved his body weight into the smaller build of Hans' shared body to be knocked down.

 _You know him? You take over,_  the land said, pushing Hans back into the forefront.

 _He's the one who killed me!_ Hans retorted.

_Well then, all bets are off. Fate is not on our side._

_"_ I found a horse!" cheered the distant voice of Count Mikelo. "Why didn't you tell me animals could see me? I spooked a whole lot of them back there. Well, except this one. This one's a strange one."

Pieter and Hans looked to the side at the sound of beating hooves, the former briefly distracted as the latter pushed himself off the ground to grab at the horse's neck at it galloped by.

The horse galloped even faster at the goading from Hans. It took the prince a second to realize this horse was Sitron.

Pieter shouted after them, running and flashing in and out of existence as he teleported himself closer to the rushing animal and his rider.

 _He's using the earth as an anchor…_  the land ruminated.  _Cut him off._

 _Then you take over,_ Hans suggested.

_I don't know how to ride a horse. You do it._

_How?_

_The scythe, of course. Be creative._

Hans wasn't entirely sure how the scythe worked, but he did see it in action while he unwillingly was a part of it. He shook off the unpleasant memories as he leaned over to one side and dug its blade into the ground as he rode across it, the sickle cutting through like butter. Behind him, he heard a loud groan from the felling of trees as the soil pushed up from where the scythe raked into it, creating a jagged wall of earth in its wake.

 _And you're welcome,_ the land said in his head, chuffed.

_What did you do?_

_Like I said, he needs me as an anchor. Never realized it until I saw him in action. Best to deny that part of his magic, no?_

_Will it stop him?_

_For now._


	13. Identify

Life up the North Mountain was easier than Kristoff initially thought it would be. Elsa's new creations made the place nearly impenetrable and surprisingly hospitable. The help of the trolls for supplies and resources also helped immensely. However, the people were very limited on the kinds of food and other amenities. It's only been a few months, and he found himself missing and craving a nice, roasted fish. Anna was craving chocolate even more so. Eating nuts and berries with the occasional vegetable and even scarcer meat from when someone found the guts to go hunting was alright, but it made one miss what they used to have even more.

But everyone was surviving, and that was all that mattered. The ice city wasn't intended to be permanent, after all. Elsa just needed to buy time to prepare for a confrontation with King Pieter. Whether it was just through means of talking it out or, as Granpabbie had not-so-subtly warned, outright killing him, it was evident that Queen Elsa wasn't yet sure of the details. Fortunately, it didn't seem that their mountaintop sanctuary hadn't been discovered just yet.

Though morale could be a lot better. Being cooped up in one place for too long just wore on a person's spirits. Sure, people were free to come and go as they pleased as long as they had one of the giant snowmen accompany them and they also kept within Elsa's enchanted storm; but it was obvious that it could keep the stir-craziness at bay for so long.

Prince Rasmus went back to tending to the sick (a rather worrying fraction of the population, they didn't appear to be handling the high altitude very well), and surprisingly the twins Jakob and Christian had joined in as well. Even though they decided to show themselves useful, they weren't really hiding the fact that they were rather subdued in their countenances.

Even the Duke of Weselton, with his tendency for the overdramatic, was surprisingly muted. After all, if something were keeping that stubborn man in one spot, what more those who feared for their lives?

That was another thing that made Kristoff beg for the end of staying in the North Mountain: fear. It was like this unspoken agreement that everyone was to be on edge at all times. Granpabbie didn't even try to warn anyone against feeling this way – the queen was the exception, but that was a given. It was probably no use to anyway, considering how things were going back in Arendelle proper. He and the other trolls would come by with news of the outside world when they came by with supplies, each retelling getting darker and more frightening and even more disheartening.

Their homes were completely razed to the ground, the farms were burned, the livestock were culled, even the graves were upturned and desecrated. Then, just a month later, the pixies had arrived to scout alongside the soldiers of the Southern Isles. And even to this day months later, they still were looking.

If he were quite honest with himself, Kristoff hated being up the North Mountain. The "new normal" wasn't something he appreciated, and he couldn't see himself going at it month after month. His family was content that he was doing well, but being paralyzed on top of the feeling of claustrophobia? If it weren't for Anna and her constant cheery presence, he likely would've rolled himself off the mountain a while ago. He wouldn't be surprised if the other villagers would've followed suit.

That is until one of the trolls, Cliff, scurried into the ice fortress outside of the planned time for the trolls to help restock. Kristoff, Anna, and Elsa were busy trying to rearrange the inhabitants in the ice city because a few of them were having arguments with one another.

"H-he's back!" Cliff said, panting as he stumbled in front of Kristoff.

"Who's back?" Kristoff asked.

"The prince! Hans! He's back!"

Upon hearing the name, Elsa clutched at her heart and leaned against an ice wall of one of the living accommodations, staring at the troll in disbelief. The ice behind her began to frost over and lose its smooth texture at her distress.

"That's…" Elsa gasped. "Impossible."

"The Land is with him," the troll continued. "They appear to be blended somehow."

"What?" Anna said. "And they weren't before?"

"No. They were distinct before."

"What is he going to do?" Kristoff said.

"I ran off, expecting him to follow me, but it seems like he's intent on coming here. It's like he knows of this hiding location."

Elsa stared at the ground, then at her hands as she pushed herself back on steady feet from the wall. Without a word, she rushed into her ice palace and frosted the seams to the ice door into a solid, faceted side of the building.

Anna looked on in worry. "She never got to open up about Hans."

"You try to talk to Elsa, I'll see what I can do about Hans," Kristoff said.

"What!? But he might kill you!"

"He might not! Give the guy a bit more credit."

"Are you even sure he's the same guy anymore? He's supposed to be dead, after all."

"Anna." Kristoff looked straight into his wife's eyes. "You're worried about me too much. I'm just going to do a bit of information-gathering." He turned to Cliff. "Did you tell the others yet?"

"I tried, but… they're gone," Cliff responded.

"Gone?"

"I was sent out to try to investigate the disturbance in the forest. Once I saw him and expected him to follow, I ran. Except he didn't follow, so I went back to tell the others. But they were gone. I came straight here, hoping to beat him or interrupt him from making his way here."

"Did you see him again?"

"No. I think he got sidetracked. King Pieter's soldiers were nearby. I was able to go about unseen but I don't think he had the luxury."

"And there's no trace of the others?"

"No."

"Can you think of any reasons why?"

Cliff shook his head, his brows furrowed in worry.

Kristoff looked around him, the citizens who overheard the news frightful and whispering amongst themselves. He pursed his lips.

"Anna," he said. "Stay here. If I haven't returned in a day, expect that we now have  _two_  Westergaards to worry about."

"Kristoff, don't—"

Kristoff released the brakes to his wheelchair and called for Sven as he began to coast downslope to the front of the icy enclosure. Anna and Cliff called out and ran after him, the distance between them and the blond increasing as Kristoff began to pick up speed. Off to the side, Sven matched his speed. Kristoff pushed himself off the wheeled contraption with all the strength he could, sending him flying onto the back of the reindeer. The force made the chair tip over and clatter, rolling and tumbling without its passenger.

His body shook with adrenaline, his thoughts berating him for going off to do something that could possibly get him killed, but his heart rushed with excitement.

If he learned anything in the few months of staying in the North Mountain, it was that Kristoff was useless without the ability to walk. He couldn't help with restocking. He couldn't help with fortifications. Sure, Anna and Elsa tried to help with trying to give him administrative tasks.

But no. That kind of stuff wasn't what he was suited for. He was a man of action, not a man of words. Yes, he would have moments of imparting wisdom like everyone else, but he didn't feel fulfilled unless he was out  _there_  working, putting his body and his strength to good use. Perhaps the citizens didn't see him just as a lame man, perhaps his wife and his sister-in-law easily saw past his disability...

He knew they meant well. But as it went, "an idle mind is the devil's playground." Kristoff was nothing but idle.

This, however, was his chance. This he knew he could do on his own. Err,  _relatively_  on his own. Not counting Sven, he was doing this on his own. He could be useful once again. Yeah, Elsa had the magic and Anna had the bravery; there was one thing they couldn't claim to have: being raised by magical beings. (That, and knowing how to survive in the wild, of course.)

Kristoff raced past the fortified walls, the soldiers and snowmen looking on at him from their posts. He instructed Sven to gallop close to one of the soldiers and snatched a sword out of its sheath, its owner grunting in surprise. One of the snowmen broke formation to accompany him (as he was instructed to do by the queen whenever anyone left the enclosure). Kristoff patted Sven on the neck to slow a little to let their bodyguard have a chance to catch up.

After all, he wasn't an idiot. Yes, this was probably a stupid decision, but he still wasn't an idiot.

Hopefully he was the best one to meet Hans (or whatever seemed to take his identity) instead of Anna and her impulsiveness, and Elsa with her broken heart.

Also, even though he wouldn't openly admit it, he missed Hans. The guy ended up being one of the very few people he would call a friend. And as a friend, he felt it was his duty to welcome him back to the living, or kill him if it turned out his body was not under his control anymore; anger of the land be damned.

Kristoff just hoped it wouldn't come down to that.

###

As soon as he made it to the base of the North Mountain, Hans slowed Sitron down to a canter. He hissed when he tested his ankle out. That thing was definitely broken.

 _Sadly, unlike before, I'm unable to mend this wound,_ the land said.  _Agh, how do mortals deal with the pain?_

"Medicine or a bit of rum if you're in a pinch," Hans hissed, not wanting to think.

_We have none._

"Then we just wait it out."

_That's unacceptable._

"Too bad. Now let me concentrate. We need to get to the North Mountain, right?" Hans looked into the distance, straining his eyes to the snowy peak where he was told Elsa stayed.

_Yes. She has enchanted the area to be hidden from plain sight, though I'm closer to this plane than the one I'm from, I still have an attachment to the earth. I sense her ice at the top of the mountain. The two spirits I sent out helped me to confirm this._

"Is it so hard to learn names? The one with the family resemblance is Klaus, but considering that only family can call him that, call him Prince Klaus. The other one is Mikelo, or Count Mikelo if you want to be respectful."

_Names are sacred. If you're not granted permission to utter them by its owner, it can throw balance off._

"Over here, not addressing people by what they prefer to be called is considered impolite. I don't think saying any of our names are going to imbalance anything. Not saying them is a bit annoying, though. Kind of gives off the feeling that we don't matter."

A momentary pause. Then,  _Alright, Prince Hans. That better?_

"Better. And what should I call you?"

_Amh'skelajas._

"A nickname at least? Sometimes I might not have enough time to say that many syllables."

Another pause.  _There was once a time I was called Jorden._

"Jorden? Really? Not really a creative—"

_You have a problem with it?_

Hans resisted the urge to laugh. "Nope. Jorden it is."

Suddenly, the rhythmic sound of hooves galloping accentuated in the air, the ground shook with a similar rhythm. Hans instructed Sitron to halt as he gripped the scythe tightly. He scanned the slope that led up the mountain warily and saw two figures approaching them. As they drew closer, Hans could make out a reindeer trying to outrun a giant...

Snowman?

Hans sat frozen atop Sitron, the horse snorting and whinnying in worry. It wasn't until Sitron began backing up where Hans snapped out of it and began turning the horse around to avoid the snowman barreling down the mountain.

"Wait!" a voice called in the distance. "Hans! Wait!"

That sounded like... Kristoff?

Hans looked back to the reindeer running away from the frightening snowman in terrifying realization. Upon closer inspection, he could see the familiar shock of blonde hair held close to the neck of the reindeer. As they drew closer, the familiar build of his friend grew in detail.

Kristoff was in danger.

 _Forget about him! He's tainted with troll magic. They should help him, not us,_ the land argued.

Um, no. Hans was  _not_  going to listen to that nonsense. He could feel the land trying to push back against his consciousness to take control, but unlike the times before he died (Did he really die? It was strange to think about it like that), he found it relatively easy to push back.

 _Fine_ , the land relented.  _Summon a landslide. Cut it off._

"How?"Hans asked.

_Just do it! You want stay in control? You're not getting my help._

Going in blind with all this land-magic nonsense was going to get them  _actually_  killed one day. After all, it didn't do so well with Elsa until she went and found counsel with the trolls. Even with his "mentor" literally sharing the same body with him, Hans knew next to nothing about what he was doing.

Regardless, Hans hopped off the back of Sitron, making sure not to land on his bad ankle, and cut the scythe's blade into the ground. A surge of energy flooded out of him.

And suddenly it was like he could feel the mountain before him. As if he  _was_  the mountain. Every pebble, every speck of dust the mountain was made of; it was as if he knew where they were, how long they were there. A feeling of a wound at his crown pierced into him, the feeling of footsteps stomping where the wound originated, the feeling of millions of other footsteps around him of animals and insects moving around...

A mental yank brought him back to the base of the mountain, his body once again under control of the land.

 _You idiot,_  the land berated.  _Not like that! You want your consciousness to get lost far away from here? You're lucky you went to the mountain instead of to the center of the earth, or else your soul would've been lost for eternity and I would disappear with you!_

 _Do I seem like I know what I'm doing? No!_  Hans berated back.

The land growled and shook his head. He drove the end of the handle of the scythe into the cut that Hans made with one hand. With the other, he pointed to where Kristoff was outrunning the snowman, turned the hand into an open palm, then yanked it into a closed fist toward his body. A roar and a rumble began and a landslide formed underneath both the snowman's and the reindeer's footsteps. With a twist of a wrist, the landslide underneath the snowman careened off the edge of a cliff.

 _Thought I'd help your friend along,_ the land commented when Hans tried to protest against what seemed like something that would harm Kristoff.

As Kristoff drew closer to Hans, his face wasn't formed in delight or fear but of determination and anger. It took only a moment before the landslide stopped and Sven jumping close to them when the land ducked from the swipe of a sword dangerously close to his neck.

"Whatever you are, you can't have my friend!" Kristoff screamed before he fell off of Sven to tackle him to the floor. "Go back to wherever you're from!"

Sitron made a move to protect his master, but Sven intercepted the horse. The two circled around each other, facing off. Kristoff's attention briefly went from Hans to the two beasts. Hans took this opportunity to take over again, using both hands to try to keep the sword from doing any damage.

"Kristoff!" Hans said. "It's me! Stop!"

"You can't fool me, monster!" Kristoff growled, yanking his arm from Hans' grip and trying another swipe. This time, Hans used the handle of the scythe to keep the sword away.

"Really! Kristoff! It's me, Hans! At least let me prove it before I end up dying again!"

Kristoff scrunched a suspicious brow, but relaxed his shoulders anyway. The pressure of the blade against the handle lessened, enough pressure to still worry Hans, but not enough where the sword would slip and stab him before he could get a word in edgewise.

###

It all happened so fast. One moment, Kristoff's heart filled with hope at the sight of seeing Hans atop Sitron. After all, animals were good judges of character, right? If there was anything off about him, Sitron wouldn't have been happy with being ridden. He called out when it looked like Hans was going to turn around and run off again.

But then the landslide happened, one that was obviously started by Hans. The snowman that was guarding him was sent to plummet off the side of the mountain. It was a miracle that Sven was able to keep himself upright as they slid down the rest of the way to the bottom of the mountain.

Kristoff didn't need any more confirmation; whoever it was that was doing this was  _not_  Hans.

The next thing he knew, he had tackled him to the ground, ready to kill. He almost flinched back when he remembered Hans' curse, but when his hands made contact with his own and nothing happened, it only fueled Kristoff's anger even more. Kristoff pulled back his arm and made another swing, the sword making a  _crack_ against the wood of the scythe's handle. But hearing Hans' voice pleading for him to stop, it made him realize what he was doing.

Never in his life had Kristoff killed anyone. Was he ready to do it?

He took a good look at the man before him. Sure, he looked like his friend, even though practically half of his hair was white, and he sounded like him. What could he ask him to know for sure he wasn't being fooled?

"Let's start easy," Kristoff started, not easing his handle on the sword, but allowing a bit of slack so he wouldn't kill prematurely. "What's my last name?"

"Bjorgman," came the reply.

"Who's my wife?"

"Princess Anna of Arendelle."

"What is my reindeer's name?"

"Sven."

"Who are your brothers?"

"All of them?"

"Yes. And in birth order."

"There's King Pieter. Then the Princes: Holger, Magnus, Anders, Lars, twins Jakob then Christian, Niels, Rasmus, Klaus, Elias, and finally Aleksander."

This was frustrating. He needed to ask a question that only the  _real, living_  Hans would know the answer to. There was no telling that whoever who hijacked Hans' identity would know these facts. He looked at the white hair before him, then he looked to the peak of the North Mountain. Subjective question it was, then.

"Who is Queen Elsa of Arendelle to you?" Kristoff asked.

Maybe-not-Hans shut his eyes, the force keeping Kristoff's sword at bay slackening a little.

"Queen Elsa is..." he responded, Hans' voice wavering ever so slightly. "I don't know who she is to me. She breathed life into me when I should've been dead long ago. She showed me what it means to love, to forgive, to hope. My heart tears itself into pieces when I see her upset. Being away from her just makes me fight for any reason to see her again. I... am afraid to love her, but it's a feeling that I'm afraid to lose. There's too much I just... I don't know who Elsa is to me. I don't have the words to describe it."

"Oh my..." Kristoff dropped the sword to the side and held onto Hans' shoulders. Hans did the same with the scythe. "You're alive! Oh, thank heavens, you're alive!"

"I won't be if you keep crushing my lungs with your body weight."

"Oh! Sorry, sorry." Kristoff rolled off of him. Hans pulled himself to his feet, clearly favoring one over the other, and reached out to Kristoff as if to help him off the floor.

"I, uh..." Kristoff off to his side. "I can't walk."

"What?"

"I can't use my legs anymore. I usually get around on a wheelchair now."

Hans looked to Kristoff, a blank expression on his face.

"The tower..." Hans trailed off.

"Yeah. It wasn't your fault though."

Hans' face went from a blank expression to a stern look. "I apologize. I did not intentionally send that tower to crush you, but it was I who caused it."

That wasn't Hans' voice.

Kristoff grabbed the sword beside him and pointed it warily at Hans. Not-Hans.

"Be still, Christopher, I mean no harm," the warped voice said, hands placating. A thoughtful look, then, "Kristoff."

"Who are you?" Kristoff said, his heart leaping into his throat.

"I was Amh'skelajas, but as I share this mortal form, you may refer to me as 'Jorden' since Prince Hans insists that the former name is much too hard to remember."

That name... Kristoff knew he was explicitly told by his family to never,  _ever_  say it. But he did know what it meant.

"So 'that-which-is-between-death-and-hell' to just simply 'Jorden.'" Kristoff had to resist laughing, but a small snicker did escape.

"Prince Hans also finds this amusing for some reason. I do not find making an apology something to find amusement in. It is a matter of grave importance."

A subtle change occurred.

"Sorry, um," Hans said, his normal voice back, the prince rubbing a hand against the back of his head. "So the craziest thing happened when I got killed..."

"I think you should tell me when we're on the way up the mountain."


	14. Bite of Winter

"Elsa! Please! At least let me in!"

Elsa turned her back to the sealed door and walked up the steps that lead to her balcony.

Anna tried again. "Elsa! I'm worried about you!"

Elsa ignored her sister as she made the rest of the way up her castle into the room she had spent a lot of her effort on after fleeing from her coronation party. Her eyes traced around the fractal patterns along the walls, the elegant and pristine purple-blue hues giving off a magical, otherworldly aura. The heels of her shoes clicked against the similarly themed floor. She looked up to see the remade chandelier that hung above.

It looked nothing like its original, inspired design. It was simpler, the intricate geometric designs absent giving way to practicality. In addition to the light the ice emitted, lit candles sat in their perches, flickering back and forth giving a sense of life into the minimalistic design.

Returning to the ice palace, she couldn't bring herself to recreate the chandelier to its former glory. There were too many bitter memories involved.

It was a constant feeling whenever she let herself back into this part of the ice castle. It was one of her most favorite memories, creating this place. But it was also one of her worst. She gravely hurt Anna here. She was tempted to kill those Weselton guards. The true embodiment of just how dangerous her powers could be played out within this room. She wondered if Prince Hans would have said the same.

He was a different man back then.

To hear that he was alive again… She didn't want to face it, she didn't want to lose that tiny spark of hope she still had–that feeling that Hans wasn't completely gone–yanked away from her. Seeing his dead body freeze over, believing her magic saved him beyond all logic, then that hope pummeled into the ground to be the frail pieces she tried to carry with her until now; she didn't want to be so selfish to say as much, but it was like it was the only thing that kept her going. She shouldn't have been letting her feelings for a man dictate so much of her happiness. She shouldn't.

It was selfish, hiding away in her castle instead of facing the imminent threat to her people. That's all it was.

She walked out to the balcony, the scenic view of the world below obscured by the dome of ice. Even from here, she could hear the faint calls of her sister in the distance. She briefly wondered how long she hid here. Mere minutes? Hours, perhaps?

It didn't matter. She was a coward and just her choice to hide instead of embrace the unpleasant possibilities convinced her of this fact.

A tingle went up her spine as if there was someone with her. She spun on her heel, surprised that someone managed to get into her castle without her knowledge. But upon inspection of the room around her, no one was there.

"You know I'm here?" a voice echoed in her thoughts.

Elsa screamed and ran back into the room.

Oh no. She was losing it.

She held her head in her hands, trying to calm her erratic heartbeat so she wouldn't accidentally set off another eternal winter. The snowflake pattern etched into the floor was a little worse for wear, but otherwise she kept her powers in line. She looked around her, double-checking to make sure she didn't just imagine the voice.

"Your Majesty, up here," the voice said again. Elsa looked up.

Hovering close to the chandelier, a translucent, white spirit waved at her meekly. He floated down to her level and gave her a bow.

"It is nice to make a proper acquaintance this time," the ghost said, his mouth making shapes as if he was talking but his voice speaking into her thoughts instead of being picked up by her ears. "I am Prince Klaus Westergaard of the Southern Isles. Err... former prince. I don't believe such a birthright can be claimed if you're dead."

"You're the one who helped me during the earthquake," Elsa said, remembering.

"Correct, Your Majesty. My master wasn't pleased at my disobedience, but I knew it was the right thing to do in the end."

"Your master... the land?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

If the land was Prince Klaus' master and the last time she saw ghosts like him was when Arendelle was getting destroyed, that meant...

"Where is your master now?" Elsa asked, her tone urgent.

"Oh, he's heading up the mountain as we speak. He needs your help."

"My help?"

"Yes, so when you froze Hans' heart, you froze a part of the land too, and now they're trying get here to try to get that fixed so they can deal with King Pieter properly and—"

"They?"

Klaus nodded. "Oh, did I mention that he's with Hans? He's dying to meet you. Um, on second thought, that's probably a poor choice of words..."

Elsa didn't let herself hear the end of it.

The land was near. Hans was coming. A small flurry of snow encircled her, reflecting the tumult of emotions she was feeling.

She rushed down the crystalline staircase to the front doors of her castle, reforming the gaps and hinges, causing Anna (who apparently was leaning into them with her whole weight) to push into them to fall unceremoniously to the floor.

Anna picked herself up and brushed her skirts. "Hey! So uh... feeling better now, Elsa?"

Elsa only gave her a small smile before she took off in a sprint to the entrance of the ice fortress.

Anna groaned. "Really? I just ran down that slope earlier!"

###

It felt good to just talk about his ordeal to Kristoff. Being away from Arendelle, the only person he would talk to rather consistently was Count Mikelo, but Hans hardly saw the nobleman as any kind of confidante to his inner psyche. Kristoff, on the other hand, had no pretenses; he spoke simply, without judgment, and his character was steady. It also helped that Kristoff knew what kind of person he used to be, and even then would still call Hans a friend.

"You know she still cares about you," Kristoff said to him. "Why are you so nervous? She'd be thrilled to see you again!"

"I don't know," Hans responded. "It's as if each time I find myself growing close to her, there's something working even harder to keep me away."

Sven and Sitron, their riders settled upon their backs, made the final length up the mountain into the raging snow that covered the peak of the North Mountain. Hans felt himself grow faint at the feeling of freezing snow pelting his skin that he latched onto Sitron to try to keep himself from falling off.

"Hans!" Kristoff said, his face full of worry. "Are you okay?"

"Cold..." was Hans' only response.

The next thing Hans knew was that Sitron began picking up speed, the snow hitting him with even more force. His fingers grew stiff as he tried to maintain his grip until he no longer was able to feel them anymore. The land—Jorden, he had to remember to call him that—was... gone, somehow. Well, not completely gone, it was that intuitive feeling of someone sitting right next to him, but they were on the last fringes of life.

Was this what Jorden said about Elsa's magic killing him?

"We're almost there, Hans," he heard Kristoff say as Sven galloped beside him. "Just hang in there."

Not a moment after this was said, the storm around him was absent. He opened his eyes that he didn't realize were shut earlier to find himself in a wintry spectacle of buildings and roads formed out of ice. The settlement was enclosed by a great dome-like structure. The air was warmer. Hans still felt weak, but not as much compared to braving the storm outside.

Hesitant, clicking footsteps drew close to him; first quick and staccato, then slow and hesitant and unsure. Hans held his breath when he saw who it was.

Elsa.

The two of them locked gazes, blue with green. She smiled softly. He dismounted from his horse, careful not to stumble over from his sapped strength from the cold, and gave her a bow of his head in greeting.

She seemed like an illusion. Or otherworldly. An angel who came to take him to eternal paradise. Impossible, considering that he was unworthy of such a place.

Elsa reached out and touched his face. "You're... alive..." Tears began to well in her eyes as she cupped his face with both of her hands, her stare never leaving his face. Hans' heart twinged with joy as he allowed her to inspect him, returning a wide grin. He found his own eyes pricking with tears.

Overcome with emotion, he threw his arms around her and hugged her neck, afraid to let go. She did the same, her tears dampening his shirt.

"I'm alive," Hans whispered back. A pang of cold ripped through him, making him flinch and hiss in pain. She released him.

"Are you alright?" Elsa asked, her voice brimming with panic.

 _I must speak with her,_  came the unsettlingly weak voice of Jorden in his head.  _Before I run out of time._

Hans smiled in response to Elsa. "Whatever you do, don't be alarmed. Someone needs to speak to you."

###

Elsa half-expected herself to run to the foot of the mountain to find Hans. She knew she would run all the way to the ruins of Arendelle if she had to, even further. She was both disturbed and pleasantly surprised to find Hans and Kristoff already in the fortress. She and Kristoff shared quick glances of acknowledgement to each other, also throwing in a chastising knitting of her eyebrows at Kristoff's likely-going-to-get-him-killed actions in retrieving Hans.

Hans, on the other hand, seemed a little out of it and wasn't entirely aware of his surroundings, but it seemed that the warmer air revived him enough to take in the new environment. But then their eyes met.

Elsa didn't let herself have time to process what she was feeling. After dismounting his horse, she had to make sure it was really him; she had to see for herself that this really was happening.

She wasn't dreaming.

Simple words were exchanged. She didn't process any of them. Instead, she gave in to the disbelief and joy and began weeping. His sudden embrace was too much to handle. The dreamlike ambiance wouldn't dissipate.

But his body was warm. He was  _real._  He was  _here._  He was alive.

Suddenly, she felt the temperature of his body dropped dangerously low and he hissed in pain.

"Are you alright?" she asked worriedly as they released each other from one another's arms.

Was he dying? Was this all a dream after all? Was she going to lose him again? Because if that were the case…

He gave her a reassuring smile. His eyes were slightly out of focus, as if his attention was directed inward. His face shifted slightly as he said, "Whatever you do, don't be alarmed. Someone needs to speak with you."

The slight shift in facial expression transformed into a complete alteration of his disposition as if he were a different person entirely. He folded in on himself slightly as if he were extremely fatigued, his face strained but impassive. She reached out to Hans again, but this time he shrunk away.

"Queen Elsa, I must ask that you remove this curse you have put upon me," a distorted, inhuman voice spoke through Hans.

"Who are you? What happened to Prince Hans?" Elsa asked. She didn't like the vibe she was getting from this. She could feel the tendrils of her magic creeping around her fingertips at her unease.

"Prince Hans has recommended that I go by the name of Jorden," the voice said. He looked to the side and saw the ghost of Prince Klaus beside them as he appeared. To Klaus, he said, "Go search for Count Mikelo."

"You are referring to us by name now?" Klaus said.

Jorden waved him away with an offhanded hand gesture. Klaus nodded and disappeared. Elsa only gaped.

"You see him as well? Peculiar," Jorden said.

"Jorden, who exactly  _are_ you?" Elsa tried again.

"To be completely specific, I embody the land under your feet. I no longer am immortal. But rest assured that I am just as powerful as I was before this... unique arrangement Prince Hans and I have found each other in."

Elsa wanted to freeze him into a block of ice just from that statement alone, but refrained. Hans didn't seem horribly affected or distressed at whatever new situation he found himself in with Jorden.

"Where is he now? Why isn't he speaking instead?" Elsa asked.

"Because he and I are individuals with different...  _educations_  and intelligences of the world. Also, he doesn't appear to have been affected by your magic as I am, so it's best that we make this as swift as possible, else we both will die." An unfocused stare that Hans had just before Jorden took over. "He expresses distaste over having to die again."

"What's happening to the two of you?"

"I'm not sure. He is able to keep the cold away in a means that I don't understand yet. I believe it is from when you froze his heart over a year ago."

The frozen heart curse. Klaus had mentioned that the side of Hans' hear that hadn't been claimed by the land would be fine, because he loved her.

"I cannot help you in that regard. I'm sorry," Elsa said, her heart breaking. She was going to lose Hans again.

"What?"

Elsa looked away, not wanting to face Jorden, this being who shared the same face as the man she loved. But this... persona... this was not that man.

"Only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart," Elsa said. "Prince Hans loves me, and has acted on it countless times apparently. I can only think that you must be able to do the same for the curse to be lifted."

"...love?" Jorden's eyes turned angry. "Love?!" Then, his face turned downward in dejection as he placed a hand over his chest, eyes shut. His voice turned soft. "There was a time I knew love, or I thought I knew. How cruel to know that something so fruitless and pointless would continue to be my undoing."

His expression turned entirely inward, reflecting on a time long passed. "She told me that love was selfless, that it along with it meant the desire to sacrifice for good. I told her such thinking meant to create an imbalance, such a thing can't sustain itself. A force like love that leaned so much onto one side, with consequences that didn't seem worth all the effort put in..." He shook his head. "And then my first children left me for her, instead."

"That is because what you were doing was wrong."

Both Elsa and Jorden looked to Cliff who decided to join in on the discussion.

"Balance can never be wrong," Jorden argued.

"It is if you don't have the correct motive," Cliff argued back.

"And how were my motives incorrect?"

"Because you dared to go against Fate, and because of that you chose to leave her and remove all influence of her in the pixies."

Jorden's expression turned dark. "She left me."

Cliff shook his head. "No.  _You_  left  _her._ " It was the troll's turn to be angry. "And in turn, we had to leave you or else we would end up like the pixies: bitter, evil, and selfish. Like you."

"I am none of those things, and I care  _deeply_  for my children."

"Really? Prove it. You know fully well that the trolls are missing. I wouldn't be surprised if King Pieter were trying to sap all their magic right about now. Or if that weren't the case, I'm willing to bet that your beloved pixies are trying to torment them."

Jorden blanched and had to steady himself against Sitron, who looked at him uneasily. The horse seemed to sense that this person wasn't exactly Hans.

"I didn't know this..." Jorden trailed off. He held his head in his hands and began to hyperventilate.

Unexpectedly, instead of going into full-blown hysteria, he straightened and cleared his throat.

"I think that's enough of him for a bit." Hans was back in control, it seemed. He gave Elsa and the onlookers a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that."

"Hans?" Elsa asked.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Are you going to be alright?"

Hans' gaze turned inward. Elsa now realized that this meant he was conversing with Jorden mentally.

"If we can't get Jorden to thaw with an act of true love, then perhaps he and I don't have long," Hans simply said. "However, I was able to convince him that act might just be to save the trolls. Unfortunately, that means we may face King Pieter. I don't think either of us are prepared considering how our recent run-in with him went terribly. It'll also be a big risk, since it seems that Pieter needs Jorden dead in order to get what he wants."

A brief memory of pixies, fleeing after Elsa froze one of them solid and shattered them. A series of memories where the land hated every instance she used her magic. Another where King Pieter felt discomfort just from being in contact with her.

"Maybe it is if you go alone," Elsa said. "But with the two of us together, I think we can stand a chance."

Hans' face lightened up. "So, a plan then?"

"Naturally."

Oh, how much she missed him.


	15. Urgency

"Just so we're all clear on the plan," Hans said, making some marks with a bit of charcoal on the map of Arendelle and its surrounding areas that lay before him and those gathered to hear the plan. "Elsa and I are going with Cliff and Kristoff, along with the first scouting party to this location to—"

Hans dropped the charcoal in his hand, the smear of black coating his fingertips as they remained hovered over the crudely-drawn map. His hands began to tremble, his stare bore off into somewhere at the bottom of the table. Slowly, he sank to his knees on the floor, his face now completely blank. Elsa and others rushed to his side to aid him on the rest of the way to the ground.

"Hans," Elsa called softly. "Hans, are you okay? What is happening?"

There wasn't a response, save for weak, labored breaths.

"Jorden?" Elsa tried, thinking that the land had taken sudden control. Hans was fine just moments ago, after all.

A small, raspy whine, then he wheezed, "I am dying. You must be swift." As if it wasn't a grave enough sight for the queen to behold, his shivering hands formed a layer of frost and his hair transformed entirely to white. She gazed into his eyes, and in the back of her mind she saw a great dragon with its back arched and neck craned towards a starless, black void, roaring a pained cry before succumbing to a lake of frost overtaking the dragons' limbs.

Elsa, surprised at the sudden mental image, drew back and turned her eyes away to the people flocked around her and the prince. A cough from the floor and a steady — well, stead _ier —_  grip signaled the return of Hans, though the frost and hair retained it's concerning attributes.

"I'd appreciate it if he game me a little bit more warning when he does that," Hans said, adding a small, fake chuckle at the end. "Though I agree with him. No more delaying, we need to act fast."

###

So far, so good.

Hans threw a quick glance over his shoulder at the small group with him: Elsa and Kristoff, that troll named Cliff, the three civilians and two guards among the scouting party. The civilians were game hunters before the evacuation, and so their advice and expertise in moving through the woods with little noise was invaluable. Kristoff and Cliff, however, were the only ones familiar enough with the area to navigate; and the guards were the ones with any means for combat and working reconnaissance. (Thank goodness Princess Anna enacted that plan to bulwark the army when she did, as Elsa had told him.)

Of course, there was his own military training as a prince, which is why he was given a sword, but Jorden was very much against his involvement in first-contact combat. Later, when the plan needed Elsa to get involved, yes, Jorden knew it was needed, just not yet.

Ugh, was it difficult to manage having to share a body. At least it this time he had a say in whatever destruction Jorden wanted him to be a part of. Hans would take this arrangement over the previous one any day.

Anyway, phase one of the plane went smoothly: move the scouting parties into position as they escorted Elsa and Hans into a hiding spot about halfway between the ruins of the kingdom and the North Mountain, then they would all split up into four smaller parties as they left Elsa and Hans behind to begin scouring the area for either the locations of the missing trolls or where King Pieter was situated. Preferably both, and ideally not found within close proximity from each other.

Parties two and three would track the location of the trolls along the north and west, Hans' brothers and Princess Anna among them, purposefully assigned as such since those groups were the least likely to face danger and the closest to the safety of the domed refuge should they need to escape. Of course, Hans listed out all the dangers of having the siblings tag along, but as expected, they refused and Hans had to relent.

It was either very fortunate or unfortunate that they didn't notice that he placed them in what he liked to call the "backup" groups. Fortunate, because it helped him and Elsa to be a bit more at ease while they still made themselves useful; unfortunate because it just proved that none of them were observant or cunning enough to actually deal with a confrontation should everything go wrong with his planning and their groups were the first to find King Pieter.

Party one was the group Elsa and Hans followed and would later split from to get into the special hiding place they were designated. The scouting party would then continue their search toward the east and along the coast. Party four would scout further south and into the castle ruins if they dared.

Unlike the siblings, Hans put the Duke of Weselton into party four. To put it simply, Hans still didn't like the duke very much. However, the man was paranoid, so the prince didn't worry too much about carelessness leading to everyone's demise, even more unlike the siblings, but there was no way Hans wanted to be in the same group with him. Also, Elsa didn't feel comfortable with leaving the duke in the sanctuary with all their resources and her helpless citizens. After all, reputations are to be free of, especially ones as nefarious as the duke's.

Though Hans himself could say the same as well. Hopefully he'd live long enough to have the chance to change it.

Elsa and Hans finally separated off from the scouting party in search of the cluster of trees they were informed about, the ones with carvings along the sides of the ones that formed a ring around a clearing.

It was a bit of a challenge due to the homogenized species of trees in the forest making everything look indistinguishable, but after following the landmarks—and air temperature, surprisingly enough— mentioned by Kristoff, they finally fount it. Once they did, Hans felt rather silly for thinking how hard it was originally.

Mushrooms grew in a large ring around the grassy clearing, a single, salt-white boulder at the center. Beams of light shone unhindered by the absence of leaves and branches above, adding to to the ambiance that the clearing wasn't a part of the forest around it.

The place looked certainly magical, Hans couldn't deny that.

"A fairy ring?" Hans asked aloud, recalling the stories read to him by his late mother; the same ones that involved the tales of the pixies. He recalled being told to stay away from them.

Funny how he was explicitly told to go out and seek one instead. He supposed that if the trolls were involved with this phenomenon and not the pixies, it was probably okay.

The two of them stepped into the ring and sat down, waiting for the signal. Elsa looked on in wonder of the patch of mushrooms around them, her eyes lingering on the white stone at the center before looking up at the opening to the sky above. Hans couldn't help but admire the scenery around him as well, but then his eyes strayed to look at the queen, and then at her pale hand that contrasted the dark green grass it rested on.

 _"Why do you love her?"_  Jorden asked in his head, this time curiosity accompanying the question instead of jealousy, hurt, or rage.  _"Don't you see how much sorrow it's caused you? How much you've don't with nothing in return? All for a woman who has caused grief to me and many others in the past?"_

 _She's done a lot for me, Jorden,_ Hans retorted mentally.  _I was a horrible man, I guess I still am, but even then she saw me at my worst and still cared for me. Not because of family. Not because of honor or required duty. Because she is simply a good person. And even then she went a step further and wanted to befriend me._

 _"But why_ love, _of all things? Why not simply a sense of thankfulness?"_

_Then why not hate? Why not greed? Why anything, for that matter? Life's too short, that's why. People do things ultimately because we die in the end. In some sick and twisted way, people hate and take and kill because they believe they will attain happiness that way, if they think that the ends justify the means. I was one of those people, once upon a time. But love… even though it hurts to do things for love's sake, I think that's where real joy comes from. It's not just within yourself anymore, but somehow involving the wellbeing of others makes it better. It makes no sense, even from my own standpoint._

A strange sense that Hans knew Jorden was deep in rumination, then Jorden chuckled,  _"Such sentiment, and yet she doesn't know."_

Hans looked at the back of the queen's head, her fair hair wafting from a small breeze. She turned away from the sky to face him as if she felt his eyes staring at her. Their gazes locked, then Hans turned away, face upturned to see what Elsa say in the sky above, the deep blue-grey of autumn greeting his sight.

_I'm sure she knows._

"Are you okay?" Elsa asked.

"Me? I'm fine," Hans said. "Just having a discussion with Jorden."

"What was the discussion about?"

Hans felt his cheeks warm at the inquiry, remembering his "sentiments."

"Uh, he doesn't understand love," Hans replied.

"Oh."

A beat.

"Do you, at least?" Elsa asked.

"…not quite," Hans offered. "One day I will, but maybe not quite today."

Elsa nodded, the silence between them growing more tangible.

"Are you nervous?" she inquired.

"About Pieter?"

Elsa nodded.

Hans sighed. "He outdid me with manipulation and going around masquerading as a man with good intentions. Add on to the fact that he's got powers no one even knew about for decades, his involvement with the Order of the Lynx while my very observant father was still king, his poisoning of said king and his wife, and above all still has influence of a large army while the Southern Isles is completely powerless to stop him according to what you said of Sander's letters? Nervous is an understatement."

Elsa laid a hand on his shoulder. He looked away from the sky to face the queen.

"Whatever you're feeling right now, Prince Hans, remember that you're not alone. I'll be alongside you throughout the entire plan," she reassured.

Hans exhaled through his nose and close his eyes. He wrung his hands around the handle of his scythe that he almost forgot existed, remembered the loaned sword in its scabbard at his hip. His eyes opened.

"I know the plan doesn't involve facing Pieter, just freeing the trolls to thaw Jorden's heart… but I'm concerned that on the day that we do and that we have to end his treachery once and for all… I know how far I'll go to end it, the means I'll go through to ensure Pieter's evils are finished, but I know I an't have you there alongside me, Queen Elsa."

"What? You've said it yourself that you can't face King Pieter alone."

Hans exhaled again. "How much of your dignity and honor are you willing to give up to stop my brother? You're not a murderer, Queen Elsa."

She looked taken aback. "Neither are you."

Hans shook his head. "Motives aside, I've killed many people. One day I'll find a way to process and live with the guilt, but it was a fate I too zealously went for in the past and now I'm paying for it." He sighed. "But it does beg the question… are you willing to be a monster to stop another? Never mind if it's for the greater good, because ultimately you'll end up having to answer to yourself."

Elsa fell silent.

###

Stay with the group. Keep an eye out. Regroup as the sun sets. Run to the mountains if there's trouble.

Anna repeated this mantra in her head as she wove through a particularly dense part of the forest full of bushes and saplings, tailing Prince Rasmus just ahead of her as he whacked some branches with his sword aside, along with the rest of the scouting party ahead of him.

Stay with the group. Keep an eye out.

With all the busyness of the plants around her, the princess felt like she could easily forget what she should and should not do, her mind getting lost as her senses were constantly bombarded.

She squinted her eyes a little, hoping to see what the person very front of the group was doing and feeling a bit sorry for him since he was battling the brunt of the thicket just to help make way for everyone else. On the plus side, she remembered that he was a lumberjack, so he probably was used to it. The guy's job was probably pretty secure considering how vast the forest was, and by the looks of it, Arendelle hadn't even made a dent in it for the lumber trade.

Then again, not a lot of people traded with Arendelle for lumber, but for the constant supply of ice they had year-round. Not many other places had something like that, and Princess Anna felt a bit of pride remembering that her husband was a part of that business.

Oh right.

Stay with the group. Keep an eye out. Regroup as the sun sets. Run to the mountains if there's trouble.

Maybe she should have stayed with the rest of the other kingdom's citizens up the mountain. She wasn't cut out for this kind of stuff. But then again, she was doing this for family. Elsa and Kristoff were a given, but the trolls were her family, too, technically.

Focus, focus. There was no telling if King Pieter would appear out of nowhere to mess things up.

"Do you think it's possible for you to keep those ruminations to yourself, Princess Anna?" Prince Rasmus remarked without turning his eyes away from breaking off the branches.

What? Was she saying all that out loud?

"Yes, and if you're quite worried about my eldest brother discovering our locations and not the other way around, then by all means, it's prudent that you have your internal dialogue to be just that,  _internal._ "

"Sorry," Anna whispered apologetically.

"On the bright side, you weren't being very loud about it, but hearing you go on and on about 'staying with the group' and so forth is quite distracting." His dark copper hair—multiple shades darker than Hans', now what she noticed— shifted as he nodded once. "Now I realize why Hans didn't assign any of the twins along with you. Too much noise."

"Hey!" Anna retorted.

"That was an attempt at a joke, Your Highness. But it does make me wonder how the twins' party is faring with having  _both_  of them."

Anna sighed. She was too exhausted from all the trekking around and trying to combat the plants around her to really argue with him.

Not that there was really much arguing that could be done. She briefly wondered if King Pieter was capable of "sapping" more than just magic, since it seemed that Rasmus was a victim of having all emotion sucked out of him.

She knew it was illogical and didn't make any sense, but she chuckled anyway. Or maybe  _because_  it was such was why she found it funny.

Or maybe she was just tired and needed a nap. Ooh, that sounded really good right now.

"If this is a sign of fatigue, then yes, I do suggest we rest for a few minutes," Rasmus said.

"Did I say all that out loud again?" Anna groaned.

"I don't know about you, Your Highnesses, but I think taking a break is a great idea," the man in the front of their group said over his shoulder.

"I guess we should find signs of a clearing then?" another suggested.

"If any of you are not against it."

There was no sound of disapproval in the second scouting party, and so the lumberjack continued on, making sure to double check with the one among them that was a cartographer by trade that they weren't straying too far away from their search area.

It wasn't long before the trees and bushes grew sparse and that they finally found a clearing in the forest that lead to a river. The lumberjack held out a hand to halt the advances of the others and waved at them to go back into the cover of the forest.

Anna, curious of what he found and really irritated at whatever was coming between her and her chance to rest, stood on the tip of her toes to see around everyone in front of her and caught a glimpse of the riverbank on the opposite side.

Her heart stopped and she had to chomp down on her mouth to keep from screaming as she backpedaled deeper into the forest.

 _"Stay with the group,"_  Hans instructed everyone during the hasty meeting back at the North Mountain.  _"Keep an eye out, and we'll regroup with everyone when the sun sets and share what we've found._

 _"But above all, don't be afraid to run back to the mountains if there's trouble. Do not_ ever _confront King Pieter without me or Queen Elsa with you. Do not underestimate what he can do."_

A shiver raced up her spine and her skin prickled at the sudden charge of energy that filled the air. She whirled around to see King Pieter suddenly behind her.

He grabbed her shoulders. She let out the loudest scream she could muster before everything went black.

But for some strange reason, she felt acceptingly at ease about it.


	16. When All is Lost

Kristoff knew it was necessary, but did it have to feel so humiliating?

He grumbled under his breath, which caught Cliff's attentions as the troll walked beside him.

"Keep your spirits up, Kristoff," Cliff said to him. "In such a dire situation like this, it's best to keep your mind from straying to bothersome topics."

"A bit difficult when you're trying to cling to the back of another man," Kristoff said. He turned to the guard carrying him, "Sorry, don't take it personally."

The guard only nodded, but kept silent.

It was probably not the right time for a heart-to-heart with family, but there was a high possibility that everything could go wrong and they'd all end up dead. Or worse: everyone would die except for him and he'd never have the opportunity to talk to his loved ones ever again as he'd be forced to live with that regret. He'd rather ask Granpabbie about this than with Cliff, since the former would know more about the subject.

But Granpabbie wasn't here.

"Cliff, was it Fate that caused me to lose the use of my legs?" Kristoff asked.

"Kristoff…" Cliff looked to Kristoff with worry.

"I know, I know, you said to keep my spirits up; but look at me! I'm useless to you guys like this!"

Cliff sighed and pressed his hands together. He seemed to consider his words carefully. "Are you referring to fate or… Fate, Kristoff?"

"The one who you guys say you left the Land for," Kristoff said. "Whichever of those fates you're referring to that applies to that situation, that's who or what I'm asking about."

"I think this is a conversation best had with Granpabbie."

"I know that Granpabbie is the best to talk about these kinds of things, but tell me how you see it since he's not here."

Cliff sighed again. "That day was a fateful day. Was it Fate herself who was responsible? No. That was the Land."

"Isn't Fate in charge of life-altering events?"

"Yes…" Cliff trailed off and pursed his lips. "No."

"Which is it, then?"

"Fate has a hand in it, but ultimately it's upon the choices of those she affects that set things into stone."

"So who should I blame? For this?" Kristoff tilted his head toward the man carrying him. "The Land?"

"It's best not to find blame since there's a cause and effect in every situation. All have a say in their own destiny and its outcomes, and Fate is mysterious, Kristoff. But remember that she is on the side of the good, not the evil. But like the Land, she is also prone to imperfection, yet she always grants those that suffer from her mistakes a reprieve."

A shout. From the north. It sounded like—

"Anna!" Kristoff realized with horror. He pounded a fist against the shoulder of the guard carrying him. "We have to help her!"

"Prince Hans said that if anything happens, assume the worst and to not face King Pieter alone," the guard replied.

"But she's my wife! I have to help her!"

A crossbow bolt whistled through the air, missing Kristoff's head by a few inches to impale itself in a nearby tree trunk. Kristoff flinched as he felt a sliver of air brush against his scalp from the near hit, and everyone stared at the projectile.

"By order of His Royal Majesty, King Pieter Westergaard of the Southern Isles, come willingly or I shall use deadly force," came a voice in the direction the bold came from. An entire squadron of soldiers came out of the cluster of trees around them. Prince Anders shouldered his way through to the forefront, crossbow in his hands pointed at Kristoff's head.

It was hard to pinpoint exactly why, but something was very off with Prince Anders. The inspector was never one to keep his emotions from his face, as Kristoff remembered when he used to watch over Hans as his parole officer those first few weeks of keeping him in Arendelle. Even when Anders was in a serious mindset. Hans even offhandedly mentioned once that Anders was an easy book to read, and even though Kristoff couldn't claim the same ability to read people on the level of Prince Hans, he had to agree.

Prince Anders in this situation? It was like… something was missing. And now that he thought about it, he noticed the strangeness coming off the soldiers that came with the fourth-born prince as well. It was like… Prince Anders was there, but not quite… there, per se. He saw something like this before… Why was it so familiar? Where did he—?

Elias almost killed Hans. The pixies used Hans to do whatever dark magic thing that made the doors shatter. When the Land possessed Hans, it was like there was something there, just not Hans in the conscious form. But when the pixies were having their way with him, it was like watching a soulless puppet.

These people weren't acting on their own free will. Now that it was obvious to Kristoff that they weren't acting on their own accord, he noticed that there was very faint aura of darkness that surrounded the prince and the soldiers.

He exchanged glances with Cliff and saw that the troll came to the same conclusion as he had.

"What should we do, Cliff?" Kristoff asked.

"Come quietly," a small voice said from within the trees. The scouting party looked up to see a team of pixies descending from above.

Cliff growled, "Zsuria. What, not following the Land anymore? Not powerful enough for you?"

The pixie laughed. "Oh, the Land is definitely still powerful, but just not ready to cut all ties to Fate it seems. King Pieter, on the other hand, well, you all probably have an idea."

"Where are the others?" Kristoff asked.

"Others? You mean the other pixies? The other brothers under King Pieter's command?" She smirked when Kristoff gave her an aggravated growl.

"You know that's not what I meant!" he retorted.

"Oh, you mean your loved ones? Why, I can show you! But first…"

She snapped her fingers. The soldiers surrounding them tensed, their crossbows still aimed at the scouting party, their fingers on the triggers.

Prince Anders called out, "Fire at will!"

###

As much as Queen Elsa enjoyed the scenery around her in the clearing, she couldn't help but feel antsy just sitting around doing what seemed to be nothing. Maybe Hans and Jorden were doing something she wasn't privy to, since she didn't yet understand the nature of their new… er… predicament. Cliff suggested the clearing since it was a place that held a lot of magical significance to the trolls, and therefore Jorden might be able to help in the search that way. Elsa was mainly here as a "secret weapon" of sorts.

But after her short conversation with Hans earlier, she wasn't sure how effective she would be as said "weapon."

To her, killing was wrong, no matter the circumstance. Yes, she was the one who agreed to let Hans be the executioner, but that was due to there not being another way. And at the time, though she didn't hold the past against him, she didn't see the prince as someone wholly righteous, so she didn't see the sacrifices too much as a blemish to his character. He'd just simply change later and all would be right as rain, and maybe there would no longer be a need for killing once he set himself on that journey.

But then Hans turned out to be a… companion? Comrade? Friend? And now she looked back on it, those sacrifices held a new weight, because Hans was simply doing what he needed to survive, and she herself wanted to help him.

Was killing still wrong? If she were to do it, would she become a monster? Was Granpabbie right? Was taking a life just as much in her magic's nature as it was in giving it?

She looked down at her hands, tearing her eyes away from where they traced the carvings in the trees around her and Hans. She didn't understand her magic at all.

She barely even understood herself nowadays.

A scream. From the north.

Anna!

She shot to her feet, ready to run to protect her sister.

More screams. From the east. Then from the south and west. The sounds of their plan falling into ruin.

Elsa felt her heart pound against her chest, not knowing what to do.

"There's been bloodshed," Hans stated, looking off into the distance with an ashen expression. Then, his eyes grew wide. "No, no, no! He found us!" He shot to his feet just as a flash of lightning struck into the clearing, knocking both the prince and the queen off their feet and kicking up dust and dirt into the air.

Elsa tumbled across the ground, the world spinning before she came to a stop on her back. She grunted as she rolled herself onto her stomach and used her arms to push herself off the ground, resting on her hands and knees to catch her breath again. She winced as she felt a few bruises forming on her ribs as she moved.

Nearby, she saw Hans push himself to his feet, drawing the sword at his side.

The dust settled. King Pieter stood in the center of the clearing.

"Amh'skelajas," Pieter said. He shook his head and tutted. "You shouldn't have run off earlier. You could have saved everyone a lot of trouble. And my, you're not looking too good, it seems. Is that a frozen heart curse I see? Too bad you're incapable of love."

"That's Jorden, and he's wondering who gave you the authority to call him that," Hans replied, lips curled into a smug grimace. He readied his sword and turned his wrist slightly as if he was calmly inspecting the blade. He spoke again, voice dripping with over-confidence and suave monotony, "And frankly, I'm a bit hurt that you talk like I don't exist anymore, your own baby brother whom you've constantly claimed to love. Hmph, I guess I still have much to learn about love, considering you yourself are incapable of love as well."

Pieter sniffed in nonchalance and furrowed his brow. "If only your words hurt me as much as mine did to you. Alas, you've always spoken too much with so little to show for it. And — oh, what's this? Do I sense some doubt, little brother?" The king gave a single, empty chuckle. "You always were so full of them. What, finally realizing you can't beat me?" He turned to look at Elsa.

"And don't believe for a moment that I've forgotten about you, sorceress," he said to her.

Elsa finally stood to her feet, her aching sides suggesting to lay back down and rest, and had her hands at the ready in front of her.

Wordlessly, soundlessly, King Pieter waved a hand and conjured a dagger. Its blade flashed crimson that intermingled with the silvered light of steel. "You see this poison? It's been a tool to fell many kingdoms, to weaken the holds of ages of royal dynasties and, if given the right dosage, command anyone to blindly follow your word. I'm sure both of you have borne witness to its effects before." He snapped his fingers.

Princess Anna, from behind a nearby tree, walked into the clearing beside King Pieter. He handed the dagger to the princess and instructed her, "Hold this for me, will you?"

Anna snapped her attention to Elsa. The queen went breathless as she saw her little sister stare at her with a hollow expression, the light in her eyes almost feral.

It was like Elsa was back at that estate with the Order of the Lynx, the moments before the brainwashed people cried out before collapsing dead where they stood.

"Oh, you've noticed the connection with this poison and the Order, hm?" Pieter said. "Well, one thing you didn't realize yet was that if you killed the person whose blood it was created with, whoever was under its effects regardless if the poison victim received a non-lethal dose, would die shortly."

Elsa froze, looking in worry at Anna. Was the king bluffing? To the side, she saw Prince Hans tense.

The king wasn't bluffing.

"Oh, don't worry, my queen. The poison isn't for you."

Anna held the dagger to her own neck, still staring blankly at Elsa.

No. Anna.

No, no, no, not Anna!

King Pieter nodded as if he checked off an item in his mental checklist, his face void of any emotion. "I suggest you don't interfere, Queen Elsa, so nothing bad will happen to your sister. Just the slightest cut can poison her more." The king looked off to the side. Both Elsa and Hans followed his line of sight.

A wicked flash of light glinted from where she noticed the scythe landed when Pieter made his appearance. Pieter and Hans exchanged glances.

Suddenly, Hans thrust out a hand, calling for the scythe. In the same moment, Pieter flashed out of existence with a crackle of lightning and reappeared between Hans and the scythe, intercepting its travel by catching it as it flew to its master.

"You can't win this," Hans said defiantly, straining in effort as he continued to call for the scythe.

Pieter shook his head. "On the contrary, dear brother. Regardless of how this ends, you will always lose. My influence reaches beyond this plane, and Fate will forever be on my side."

Hans gave up trying to summon the scythe and lunged toward Pieter with a swipe of his sword. Pieter conjured his own sword in hand while he still held Hans' scythe in the other, and parried the offensive swinging blade with a flick of his wrist. Hans took his diverted momentum and spun with a kick to Pieter's sword arm, knocking the weapon out of his hand. Hans caught the sword as it fell, spinning back into an offensive stance, wielding both swords as he crossed them underneath the king's neck, ready to behead him.

"Hm, I've underestimated your ability to fight," Pieter said. He lifted a hand, cackling with energy, ready to make another strike.

Elsa took this opportunity to freeze the king's hand in place, the energy of his magic dissipating in the ice. Thinking quickly, she also froze Anna in a block of ice, leaving her head free to allow her sister to breathe. The veins in Anna's face popped in exertion as she strained against the ice, likely trying to follow Pieter's orders to cut her own throat if Elsa tried to interfere.

Pieter yowled in pain and gave Elsa a dirty look as he noticed what she did to the princess.

"Surrender now, King Pieter," Elsa commanded.

A dark, wicked chuckle from the king. He tested his frozen hand, and Elsa saw that her magic kept him effectively restrained.

"Even when faced with a dangerous foe, you show him mercy," Pieter said. He took pounded the end of scythe's handle against the ground, and creaking out of the dirt around them were the missing trolls, their eyes as blank and empty as Princess Anna's.

"Mercy is for the weak," Pieter said.

Hans faltered at the sudden appearance of the brainwashed trolls, but regained his focus and went to slice Pieter's head off. But Pieter disappeared, leaving only empty space between his two swords.

He reappeared beside Anna and curled the scythe's blade around her neck. Elsa and Hans froze in place.

Pieter smiled.

"Kill me, you kill the princess, remember? Also, it's not her that I'm after," Pieter said. "Or do you constantly forget that?" He shouted to the sky, _"Aellaiin, alirasidin! Aellaiin, rajirasidin!"_

The sky above turned dark with rolling clouds, the air filled with the sound of thunder. Arcs of lightning struck toward the clearing, but curved and redirected around as if an invisible dome protected the sacred, magical ground of the trolls.

The trolls began to chant, and the lightning finally made its way through unseen barrier, striking the scythe as Pieter held it above him.

Elsa looked on in horror as she saw Hans arc his back, his face contorting in pain as if the bolt of lightning struck him instead.

"Amh'skelajas, you've been judged and found undeserving of your continued existence," Pieter said. He took the electrified scythe and snapped it into two over his knee. "All ties to your former immortality are now severed."

Elsa heard a great roar that reminded her of the vision of the dragon she saw earlier. Her heart quivered in fear as she saw Hans' image fade and disappear, leaving behind a cloaked, elder man in his place, growling and roaring in agony.

The elder man looked to his hands, his fingers turning into pegs of ice that slowly crept toward his wrists. His breathing was heavy as he tried to recover from the pain.

"What have you done to me?" the man said. He ran his hands over his torso, his breath still labored, his shoulders heaving as his face turned dark and menacing. "What have you done to Hans?"

"He was just a means for me to get you to give up your immortality," Pieter replied. "How does it feel to see the physical land through your own eyes? Intriguing? What did Hans want me to call you again? Jorden, right?"

It felt like the air in Elsa's lungs solidified. She was unable to breathe or move.

Was Hans gone? Did she lose him again?

Something burned within the queen, an acidic kind of feeling that frothed and stirred itself in her chest. She let it simmer, willing whatever emotion it was to blind over the grief that threatened to petrify her into inaction.

She lashed out a hand as she let out an angry scream accompanied by tears streaking down her face. She felt herself go cold, the tears solidifying in the middle of her cheeks, any future crying prevented since anything and everything that touched her instantly froze over with ice. Even the air surrounding her turned to mist from the sudden cold. From her hand, she shot an array of icicles toward Pieter.

Pieter saw this and flashed out of the way, safely avoiding the frozen onslaught. Again, she threw out a hand and conjured more icicles to fly at the king.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Jorden pick himself back up, his form growing to twice his original size, his body shape transforming into something lithe and reptilian in stature, something Elsa was familiar with.

It was that dragon again.

She didn't let herself dwell on it for long, for her only focus was on stopping Pieter. How she would and should accomplish this, she didn't know or care at the moment.

He killed Hans again.

She wasn't going to let him get away with it this time.

###

As soon as the scythe was broken, Hans felt a snap along his back, the force continuing along the length of his spine. He screamed in agony, dropping his swords and falling to his knees. In his head and in his ears, he heard Jorden let out a howl that was a mixture of a beastly roar and a human shout. He looked to Pieter as his vision faded, his sight flooding with an intense light. There was a heavy, pulling weight in his mind, coldness and warmth crushing against his skin.

He looked down at his hands just as the last of his sight failed him and saw a ghostly afterimage of… himself…

He failed. Again. He was dying again.

He shook in terror as it felt like his head was going to roll off his neck, as if his soul remembered how he originally died. As if he it was intended that he stayed dead.

And then the light cut out like a snuffed-out candle. Around him was a dark void. Before him was a dragon that reached for him as the beast was getting overtaken by creeping ice around its limbs. Jorden.

It was then that Hans noticed he was floating, drifting upward into the nothingness, an otherworldly wind pulling him away.

"No!" Hans heard Jorden cry out to him.

Somehow, it felt so wrong to hear that voice apart and disjointed from him. He had grown so used to hearing it from within for so long…

"Stay! Hold on!" the dragon called out again. "Please!"

Snapping himself out his stupor, Hans reached back with a translucent hand, his fingers wrapped around a single dragon claw.

_Let go._

Hans looked around, trying to find the source of the new voice. Jorden didn't make indication that he heard the voice, nor was there evidence of any other entity with them as they strained to keep hold to one another.

The voice sounded… appealing, for some reason. It reminded him of his first impressions of the land speaking to him: melodic, musical, terrifying.

No, this voice… it wasn't terrifying.

It sounded like a beautiful symphony, lulling him, comforting him with a tone that was as soft and as light as gossamer fluttering in the breeze. Hans heard no danger, no warning of terrors should he continue to listen to the voice.

_You deserve to finally rest._

Rest.

He was so tired. Weary. Worn. Yes, resting sounded so good right now. He was so tired.

_You've earned your rest. No fear. No destruction. No hurt._

Again, the voice chimed like delicate crystal bells. The thoughts of just letting go gave him a welcoming embrace, a warm and comforting whisper. His ethereal body brightened as he loosened his grip on Jorden, his hold willingly weakening in the smallest way possible.

The dragon's eyes grew wide and he strained himself to keep hold of Hans.

There was a sudden rush of joy that filled him as he felt himself slip ever-so-closer to wherever this voice called for him to go. There was no regret. There was no guilt.

He never knew he so desperately wanted this.

_All this struggle was against your true fate. All will be right again. All will work to good in the end. You need to rest._

_Let go._

Hans gave Jorden one last look.

He let go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Aellaiin, alirasidin! Aellaiin, rajirasidin! _— my made-up language: Sing, children of the earth! Sing, children of the air/wind!__


	17. Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some violence involving blood in this chapter.

It was silent.

Not the kind of silence Hans had found himself familiar with, the kind that held the sense of dread that something was going wrong of an impending doom either he or some unseen assassin would be the cause of. It wasn't the chilling silence that had a foreboding presence like his father when about to reprimand him.

It was… inquisitive. Calm.

He opened eyes he didn't realize were closed and came face-to-face with a woman in white sitting cross-legged before him, her shoulders covered with a cloak of white feathers that pooled behind her and her body dressed in a white robe. White hair framed around gold eyes that matched the cord cinched around her waist. He noted that he himself was sitting in a similar position before her.

"Who are you?" he found himself asking.

"I am merely a messenger," she replied, her face neutral and serene. "But I believe I've acquired the name… _'Fate'_ in your tongue."

"Where am I?"

"Somewhere safe."

"Am I dead?"

"Not this time."

Hans felt a rise of frustration. "Why are you so cryptic?"

"I do not mean to be," she replied. "Despite my love for your kind, I am out of touch, as you would say. Being restricted to being only being a guardian makes free interaction difficult. I can only act when instructed to, such as this moment, and there are so many of you to watch over." A petite frown curved her lips. "A fitting punishment. As for my counterpart… I fear that he hasn't taken his new restrictions well."

"Then why am I here?"

"Because this is a lesson he must conclude on his own. After many years, he has finally come close to realization."

"What lesson would that be?"

"A lesson in mortality and death; things he believed were beneath him."

"Are you… talking about Jorden?"

She nodded and her countenance lit up. "It's good to hear the has taken my playful moniker for him again."

"And what about my brother?"

Fate looked at him, unreadable again as before. She breached the short distance between them, placing her palm on his forehead, causing him to close his eyes.

"I am forbidden to know of his outcome. I'm not, however, restricted from taking custody of you instead of… Jorden."

Eyes still closed, he asked. "What will become of Jorden?"

"You two are still entwined for neither can exist without the other anymore. He won't be the possessor of your soul, however, should you agree to this." She retracted her hand. "I implore you to consider. Jorden is still lost and without guidance. Let him be your guardian, and he will drive you to unkempt violence and destruction. But if you allow me to be your guide, I may finally reach him and let him know I've missed him dearly."

As she pulled her hand away from his forehead, a grey wisp was clutched in her hand. She turned her hand and took one of his.

"I also brought you here because I need you here if you wish to make this choice," she continued. "I need you to _see._ "

Hans uncurled his hand and let her place whatever she held into his open palm.

In his hand was a tiny, flickering flame as grey as the clouds in a spring shower. At its center was a minuscule void of black that pulsed like a heartbeat, slowly as if it was sleeping.

"What is this?" he asked.

"This is you and Jorden as you are entwined at this moment. And this is the path you two are currently on…"

Suddenly, the little void beat faster, growing and engulfing the little flame and snuffing it out of existence. The blackness lingered, pulsing erratically now and shrinking into a tiny mote before winking into nothingness.

Seeing the demise of the little speck of grey and black disturbed him.

"Is this what you're talking about?" he said.

She nodded. "While they may call me Fate, I have no control over such things. Your destiny is still in your hands. It's still your choice. I'm only here to offer you an alternative path. It is not in my place to interfere further than that."

Hans' prior suspicions were right. Jorden was influencing him more than he wanted to admit. And to some degree, he knew Jorden was going to be his demise, if Hans hadn't met it already. He wasn't looking forward into dying again.

Though if the next time was anything similar to how Fate brought him here, he supposed he wouldn't mind too much. He almost found himself wishing he didn't have to choose and just meet whatever end was going to meet him.

"What is this alternate path you're talking about, specifically?" he asked.

"I offer you the path once offered to Pieter."

"Wait, I thought that Pieter was… Wouldn't that make the whole disappearing thing happen?"

"I do not refer to his current path, but the path he once started on but has since ceased following. He was to be something akin to what you call a judge in your realm."

"A judge?"

She nodded. "And in your circumstance it would benefit both you and Jorden."

"And what if I fail? What if I don't want to do this?"

"As with all things I do, I can only offer and you are the only one who has the power to decide."

Off to the side, faint colors materialized and formed shapes. They had a motion about them, wavering as the cloud of colors condensed into images of a forest and…

He saw Pieter, flashing around and taking swipes at a dragon. He saw Elsa throwing shards of ice around, a severe look on her face. A murderous rage flashed in her eyes, the frost around her mimicking her internal chaos.

Seeing her like that struck a chord, a disturbance that managed to reach him even in the sense of serenity that permeated the place he was in at the moment.

"She can't… she… Elsa shouldn't…" Hans breathed, not wanting to believe what he was witnessing. "She's not…"

She's not like me, he wanted to say.

Fate shook her head. "She shouldn't. However, like you, like Pieter… She, too, is the one to choose her path. After all, despite all acts of incredible power, you are still human. They are still human."

A melancholy overcame him.

Hans looked at his hands. He remembered the fleeting, tiny ember. He considered everything.

He wanted Elsa to be happy, and if she continued with what she was currently doing, that if she were to deal a killing blow, he knew that happiness would be much more difficult to reach for her.

He also wasn't sure if he wanted to just hand ownership of his soul to yet _another_ being. He wasn't sure if this 'Fate' was even who she said she was. He didn't know if choosing her offer was even the right thing to do.

He couldn't just sit here and think though, neither should he make this decision lightly.

"However you choose, child," Fate said. "It will not be easy."

###

Kristoff's ears rang as the darkness retreated from his eyes. His cheek was pressed against the dirt. There was an eerie stillness that lingered in the air.

Prince Anders was no longer there, including the group of soldiers that accompanied him.

Kristoff sighed a breath of relief when he saw his immediate threat was gone. He used his arms to roll himself onto his side. In doing so, he found that the scouting party he was a part of was gone, Cliff among them.

He hitched a breath when he sensed a bit of resistance originating around his legs as he went to pull himself to a tree to sit up instead of helplessly lay on the ground.

Knitting his brow, he inspected himself.

Impaled in one of his calves was a crossbow bolt that was digging itself deeper into him from shifting his position on the ground.

Kristoff rectified this immediately by getting all weight off the bolt. And he stared at it.

It didn't hurt.

There was a disconnect in his brain about what his senses (or lack thereof) that gave him pause before he reached out with one hand and tugged on the bolt. He was surprised to find that removing it came with little difficulty, even more so when he noticed that the bolt had a training tip instead of a barbed one meant to inflict more damage. It was like Prince Anders' soldiers weren't intending to kill or maim.

Then… what were they even doing?

He got a better look at the bolt. There was a coating of bright crimson that was tainted in the much darker shade of his blood. He blinked, remembering that his legs were still able to bleed. With his free hand, he tore off the segment of his pants where the bolt ruined it and used it as a makeshift bandage around his wound. He made sure to check his toes for proper circulation before wondering at the crimsoned bolt in his possession.

It wasn't poison, was it? It was hard to tell, considering that he wasn't able to sense if the unknown substance was affecting him in any way.

He scanned his surroundings again.

They must've left him for dead. There was some evidence of a fight in the immediate area; broken branches in the bushes, stray bolts that missed their mark (or perhaps not, if his suspicions about the training tips were true), and a sword laying on the floor that the recognized belonged to the guard that carried him.

He noticed that there wasn't any blood around, save for his. Or, if there was, not in the immediate vicinity. Not on the ground. Not on the sword. There were faint scorch marks a bit of a ways off that he knew was likely where the pixie and Cliff threw some magic around.

There were no obvious signs that they were dead. Yet.

A crack of thunder shook through the air. Kristoff looked up to see dark clouds circling around in the distance, the wind picking up and racing towards the eye of the storm.

He felt vulnerable. Helpless.

He was alone. No one around to even move him. It was a wonder that wolves hadn't taken the opportunity to kill him when he was out cold.

Heavy footsteps. A rustle of leaves.

Kristoff bit back the scream of surprise and fear in his throat and laid himself back down, keeping himself still. He closed his eyes and opened his ears for hints that whoever was approaching was either friend or foe.

The sounds drew closer, the gait of steps definitely human in nature, so that meant it wasn't a pack of wolves. The group was no more than five, which meant it wasn't Prince Anders and his whole crew again. He risked cracking an eye open.

It was the southern scouting party.

He allowed himself a brief sigh of relief, not believing his luck. He wasn't helpless and alone in the woods anymore. Kristoff sat up and was ready to call out to them.

Except…

Unfocused stares. Blank faces. The faintest black aura. And as the Duke of Weselton came into view, his rather comedic-looking stride was absent.

Whatever was up with Prince Anders' group was now ailing the scouting party sent to the south.

Kristoff was afraid that the allies had turned into enemies and that he had just blown his cover. But they made no threatening moves at him.

Instead, they didn't divert their northernly march, moving just as the wind did toward the eye of the storm. He looked on dumbfounded as the short nobleman continued his walk straight over Kristoff's legs, tripping over them, then mechanically picking himself up to return to following the unseen force drawing the others north.

That was when Kristoff noticed it.

Embedded in the duke's shoulder was a crossbow bolt. A laceration on the side of the neck of one of the guards oozed an unnatural shade of bright crimson ochre.

Kristoff looked at his useless leg with the calf wound. The bolt was still in his grip.

Was the substance doing this to them? And if it was relatively fast-acting like it seemed, why was he immune?

Suddenly, the earth split in front of him, a hand reaching out from the dark void below and clawing into the topsoil.

Kristoff bit down on his tongue, close to blare out shameful obscenities. His heart pounded in his ears as he pushed with all his might to get away from the opening.

Another hand thrust out of the crack, tossing a long staff-like object up past the top of the gap, making it clatter nearby Kritoff.

Getting a closer look at the staff, Kristoff saw that there was a sickle-shaped blade near one end. It looked very much like a scythe; however, it appeared very dysfunctional for harvesting and much more decorative in nature. Strange writing was carved throughout the straight shaft and along the mirror-like metal of the blade. There wasn't even a sharp edge to the blade.

"This better be the last time I have to come out of the dirt like this," a voice from within the crack in the ground said.

Wait a minute…

"Hans?" Kristoff asked.

"Kristoff? Is that you up there?" the voice said.

Yes, it was definitely Hans.

"Yeah. Do you need my help?"

"No, no. Um… I need to… I'll explain later. Trying to concentrate." A loud grunt. Some rocks clattered against the crevice's sides. "Thank goodness she said this is the last trial."

"She?"

"Nothing. Talking to myself and trying not to panic." Another grunt of effort and Kristoff saw Hans hoist himself up and roll on top of the ground to one side of the earth's opening. The prince sighed and caught his breath. He aired himself by tugging at his plain and threadbare linen shirt.

Those weren't the clothes Kristoff last saw him in.

"What happened to you?" the blond asked.

"I could ask the same of you."

"I asked first."

"To be honest, I have no idea." Hans stood to his feet and retrieved the decorative scythe.

"What happened with your other one?" Kristoff asked.

"Oh um… it broke. But I was given a new one."

Kristoff gave him a skeptical look but didn't inquire further. It looked like it was going to be a long story and he knew that if Hans was here, something was up with Elsa, too. Therefore, there wasn't much time for explanations.

Hans squinted at the bolt still in Kristoff's hand, then to the calf wound. His eyes widened in alarm and his hand hovered close to the sword Kristoff just noticed the prince had hanging at his hip.

"He got you, too?" Hans asked, his voice trying to hide the slightest break.

"Yes, but… I don't think it's working on me."

The prince swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, his lips pursed into a thin line. His hand relaxed away from the sword. His eyes wandered around them, stopping on the guard's sword on the ground after brief pauses on the unused bolts in the trees.

Hans murmured to himself, "And despite all acts of incredible power, we all are still human…"

"What?"

The prince hunched over and picked up the sword on the ground. He tore off a sleeve from his shirt, then he wiped off the poison from the bolts onto the cloth after pulling them from the trees. He wiped the poison-laden cloth onto the sword's blade and offered the handle to Kristoff, who took it with a quizzical and upraised brow.

"This is going to sound weird and… admittedly very disturbing… but can you mix some of your blood with that?"

"Hang on… _What?_ "

"Make sure it's a considerable amount. Not too much, of course. Bleeding out is not a good idea. Oh, and make sure not to knick yourself with that stuff. I'm thinking you lucked out with the bolt in the leg instead of somewhere else."

"Hans…"

"What?"

"You are making very little sense right now."

"Trust me. I'm…" Hans sighed. "I can't get into it. I just have this theory. Please. Trust me."

Kristoff looked at he sword. He looked at the prince and nodded.

He unwrapped the dressing on his leg and let the wound bleed out a little, his blood dripping down his leg and onto the ground. The blond gave a sneer of distaste as he wiped up the blood on his leg with his hand and smeared a layer across the length of the sword. He rewrapped his wound.

"Okay, now what?" Kristoff asked.

Just as he finished asking his question, the red mixture momentarily flashed a sheen of white, the coating of dark blood seemingly gone save for a few drops left over.

"Now we use King Pieter's own weapon against him," Hans answered.


	18. In the Blizzard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a tad bit of violence in this chapter.

Queen Elsa's mind echoed her silent fury as she flung icicles at King Pieter, howling out a cry of mourning and vengeance with each throw from her hands and snap of her wrists. Each step she took slicked the ground with prickles of hoarfrost, radiating out in fractals. Each jettison of ice proved to be a miss as Pieter avoided them with timely flashes of lightning that brought him out of harm's way. Each miss furrowed Elsa's brow more and deepened Pieter's frown incrementally.

"The level-headed queen has finally lost it?" Pieter said before flashing away to another side of her. He sighed and mumbled an incantation, and a bolt of lightning struck her outstretched hand, numbing it. "I've already stated that my qualms were not with you."

"You killed him!" she screamed, grimacing from the strike.

"Collateral damage."

"What kind of monster are you!?"

"I'm of the same stock you are. However, I have ambitions befitting of an omnipotent being."

"You're far from omnipotent."

"You're right, I'm not. At least, not yet."

He turned in the direction of where Elsa saw the dragon last. The same spot Elsa saw Hans once stood.

"He let go, Queen Elsa," the dragon rumbled as he succumbed to a sudden weakness, ice slowly creeping over his limbs.

At first, the queen stilled, processing the meaning of those words.

Anger. Sadness. Grief.

Nothing.

She sank to her knees, her lightning-struck hand slowly regaining feeling as the rest of her felt like shutting down.

"Such theatrics, Your Majesty," King Pieter continued. "What, you honestly allowed yourself to grow fond of Hans? More, perhaps?" Pieter raised his sword and chuckled. Another incantation, and a bolt of electricity struck Elsa in the chest, flooring her. He placed the blade against her neck.

Pieter stared into her eyes, analytical and intrusive as if he was learning her innermost thoughts. It wouldn't surprise her if he was actually capable of it.

Whatever he gleaned from her made him throw his head back in laughter before huffing a threatening growl and directing to her, "And to think that I believed you to be a possible threat this whole time. You _loved_ him, didn't you?"

To hear those words from someone as detestable as King Pieter…

A surge of defiance awoke inside of her, and she wrapped her hand around the sword at her neck, the sharp edge digging into her palm. She froze the sword, as well as Pieter's hand that held the handle.

The king cried out in surprise and called out in pain trying to free himself from the ice. A dark look overcame him. The only warning she got was that the sounds of the storm ahead grew more violent before she felt the lightning from Pieter attacking every fiber inside of her.

"You've tried my patience, Queen Elsa," King Pieter continued. "Once I'm through, I'll make sure to find wherever Hans' soul resides and ensure he will experience torment for all eternity."

No.

Not if she could help it.

Ignoring the protests of her muscles and nerves, she summoned an icy gust of wind that strengthened the desperate shove she gave against the king and the sword. He let out a grunt of surprise as she ripped the sword from his grip and was flung to the base of a tree.

Retribution and vengeance powered her steps as she rushed him, the entire forest bowing from a sudden blast of winter from the forces inside of her.

Her mind was thoughtless as she turned the world into a field of silent snow, the winds and lightning that the king created gone without a trace. Words escaped her, only the labored breaths she heaved expressing every emotion that pounded within her chest.

The trolls ceased their chanting. Everyone else was still. A sword closed the distance between the King of the Southern Isles and the Queen of Arendelle. Elsa shook with anger and fatigue, the sword barely moving as the monarch miraculously exercised restraint despite the murder in her eyes.

Pieter raised his hands in surrender. His words were slow: "Remember, you kill me, you kill everyone you know and love."

Echoes of heavy boots crunching fresh snow surrounded them. Elsa barely registered them to be the other scouting parties, as well as the soldiers she presumed the king ransacked her kingdom with. Her sister still struggled in her encasing in her periphery.

A blinding flurry kicked up, obscuring the view of her surroundings to the point where she could only see the king.

"Why should I show you any mercy," Elsa whispered, almost to herself, "when you haven't done the same?"

Pieter gave her a wicked smirk. "You wouldn't dare."

###

Hans' legs burned as he sprinted towards the center of commotion in the forest. His hands strained to hold onto Kirstoff's thighs as the blond man clung to the prince's neck and shoulders with arms that Hans knew were much stronger than his. This fact kept taunting him the further they went along.

He knew it was rather silly to be too hard on himself about this; a man carrying another man almost twice his size just was inherently difficult.

It didn't take too long for the two of them to catch up to the ambling soldiers and scouting parties, and through a small gap in the trees, he caught a glimpse of Queen Elsa on the floor.

With a sword at her neck.

The trees once again obscured his line of sight of her, the scores of people condensing around.

He egged himself on, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, the thunder reverberating through the arboreal wall. A sharp, piercing cry lanced at him, a drop of fear stabbing into his gut.

All of a sudden, a blast of icy wind knocked them to the ground. The mind-controlled people in front of him were thrown to the dirt in a likewise manner and promptly picked themselves off and continued their ambling. The storm above had ceased, the forest painted in the colors of a ferocious and harsh winter around them.

The shock of cold surprised him, and the prince's teeth chattered as he tried to ask Kristoff, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Kristoff said, rubbing his arms, likely to try to add some heat to them. "Did Elsa just…?"

Hans offered an arm, which Kristoff took before being hoisted onto Hans' back. The huskier man angled himself a little to pick up their weapons before Hans grunted in effort to straighten his legs, picking the both of them off the floor.

The air around them began to swirl, frozen flakes being lifted from the floor and the sky turning grey from a snowstorm this time. It grew in intensity, blotting out the space around them, making it difficult to see more than about a foot in front.

Past experience told them that Queen Elsa was gravely upset.

The temperature dropped further, the icy air feeling like it was shredding Hans' unprotected skin. It didn't deter him, however, from continuing forward despite the added difficulty.

"What's the plan now?" Kristoff asked. "Does this change anything? Also, do we even have a plan? You haven't really been giving me any ideas to what in the world we're trying to do here."

"Plan hasn't changed yet," Hans said. "You take Pieter as I try to get Jorden situated."

"Wait, what!? If you haven't noticed a very important detail, I can't _walk._ How do you think I can handle him?"

"It'll work out, just trust me."

A grumble from Kristoff, then, "Fine, but just for the record, you're making it really hard to at the moment."

The two of them broke through the ring of mindless gatherers, the swirling snow blinding them. Hans nearly stumbled on a sweeping dragon tail, almost running into the monstrosity just as the rest of Jorden came into view.

_Here,_ a soft voice whispered in the wind.

The prince pursed his lips.

"Hey Kristoff, drop my sword and scythe," Hans instructed. Two metallic thuds nearby indicated that his friend complied. "Now let go of me."

"What's going on?" Kristoff asked, releasing his hold around Hans' neck to be settled onto the floor.

"You've got a good grip on that other sword?"

"Yeah."

"Stay here."

"Huh?"

Hans gave him a sheepish look before picking up his sword and scythe and running towards the front of the dragon. Kristoff disappeared into the curtain of white with a shout of protest following after him.

###

Kristoff couldn't believe it.

Did Hans seriously leave him? That was just cruel and unfair. And he also wanted him to deal with his brother?

Whatever happened to the prince just before crawling out of the earth, must've made him either lost all reason and logic, or at least was suffering from a bad blow to the head. Maybe both. Ugh, nothing about this was making sense.

He looked at the sword in his hand, perturbed. He tried not to think too hard on the fact that his own blood was caking the blade.

He experimentally tried to will his foot to move. Just like all the other times he had tried in the past year, his efforts were fruitless. Kristoff sighed.

He might as well keep moving somehow. Being still in a blizzard such as this was a death sentence, especially since he wasn't wearing the right clothing. Kristoff hoisted himself along the ground, dragging himself with his arms.

He barely moved a few feet when he encountered a frozen pillar. He looked up to see that it was Princess Anna still in ice, struggling against her entrapment. Her eyes reflected no sense of familiarity or personality back to him. She was under the same kind of spell that the others were suffering from.

He heard a faint voice in the storm.

"You wouldn't dare," it said. Definitely sounded like Pieter.

Kristoff scowled and checked for the sword with him before dragging himself closer to the voice's origin.

This was probably one of the most hair-brained plans he'd ever had to take part in.

###

Hans kept his hand against Jorden's side, dragging it along to not lose track of him in the blizzard.

When the prince finally made his way to the dragon's face, he saw that Jorden had his eyes closed, shivering and still.

"Quick, before it is too late," the soft voice of the wind whispered to him.

"Jorden," Hans called out.

A weak eyelid cracked open. A long breath pushed out of large nostrils, an acrid musk turning the prince's nose from the sulfuric smell.

"This will hurt, but it's only for a moment."

"I thought I lost you."

"Shh... we're not in the clear yet, Jorden."

Hans lifted his new scythe and slashed into Jorden's skull, the tip of the blade cracking into the center of his forehead. A loud roar escaped the dragon as a burst of light escaped from the gash. Jorden disintegrated, the scythe's symbols glowing and dimming.

Hans paused, worrying if he did it wrong.

"I'm… I'm free?" a voice from the scythe said. A ghost-like feeling of pleased rumbling piqued in his chest.

The prince let out a deep sigh of relief. "Not quite."

The feeling turned to disappointment. "I see."

"She wanted me to tell you that you passed, whatever that means."

A wisp emanated from the scythe, forming into Jordan's human-like apparition. He looked down at his image, delicate enough that it seemed like a gust would blow him away, despite the storm telling them otherwise. "I guess worse fates have happened to me."

The blizzard stopped.


	19. Stalemate

Kristoff was on autopilot when he reached the king. He tried not to think too hard about what he was going to do.

As soon as he saw Pieter, he grabbed the king's hand and sliced a cut into his palm with the sword before anyone knew what was happening. Pieter looked on, dumbfounded. Elsa's chest heaved, her own sword dangerously close to Pieter's neck.

Pieter growled and pulled his hand back, checking on his palm. He looked to Kristoff in disbelief.

"You…" he said. "You were never supposed to be a part of this!"

Kristoff smiled. "Ah, so _that's_ why he wanted me to do this… I think."

A ferocious roar howled in the storm.

"Sounds like Hans has got his hands busy," Kristoff said.

"Hans?" Elsa said.

"Hans is _alive?_ " Pieter said.

The biting snowstorm ceased. Flakes of snow lingered in the air then fluttered to the ground, clearing the atmosphere. Just a few feet away, Kristoff could see Hans with a victorious grin on his face. Elsa dropped the sword she wielded and ran to him.

Kristoff heaved a sigh of relief.

Pieter flinched and cried out in pain. He took a look at the wound on his hand.

"What have you done to me?" Pieter growled at him and took the bloodied sword from him, inspecting it. His brows furrowed and his eyes turned back to Kristoff. "You'll pay for this."

The king leapt to his feet and swung at him.

A _clang_ resounded when metal hit against metal, Hans' sword blocking the strike.

"Kill him, and you die," Hans said, glowering.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Pieter said. "You weren't supposed to _come back_. You were _dead_."

" _Almost_ dead. There's a distinction there."

Pieter howled and summoned another sword, using it to swing at Hans' side. Hans just sidestepped and pillar of rock jutted out of the ground and caught the blow. The prince's sword shifted against the guard of the king's other weapon, and disarmed it with a twist of his wrist.

Before Pieter could react, Hans pointed his blade at his chin, the strange markings on the sword glinting into Kristoff's eyes. More pillars of rock materialized out of the ground, barricading the king on all sides into a cage.

"King Pieter Westergaard of the Southern Isles," Hans said, the sword in his hand glowing softly. "For the crimes you have committed upon the people in this world, Fate has deemed you unworthy of the power to be her Sword. Her gifts to you are henceforth revoked."

Hans stabbed the sword into Pieter's throat and sliced to one side, a ball of light now following the blade, no trace of a wound on the king. The light floated into the air higher, then disappeared.

Pieter's conjured sword dissipated.

The king's eyes went wide as he backed away, bars of rock still surrounding him. He turned his wrist as if to try to conjure another weapon. None came.

###

_"He will be taken,"_ the air told Hans. _"Take heart, and he shall be taken back."_

What?

"Zsuria!" Pieter shouted.

The king vanished in a glittering display. Out of the corner of his eye, Kristoff vanished as well.

No!

"Kristoff!" Hans screamed, running to the spot he last saw his friend. He fell to his knees and pounded a fist into the ground. "No..."

"Kristoff!" Elsa echoed. "He took him!"

"He took him..."

"Why?"

"Because..." Hans swallowed and waited for the quiet voice to explain herself. Frustration and disappointment met him. Fate wasn't going to give him and answer.

"I'm not sure why, but I have a feeling it's the poison," Hans continued.

Hans pulled his legs underneath himself and sat on the ground. He sighed. There was too much to go over. Too much to process. Too much to plan around.

"We need to make sure everyone is fine," he said.

Elsa nodded.

Not even a moment after he said that, there were hisses and gasps of pain and surprise around them.

'W-what happened?" came the voice of Princess Anna. "And why am I in a block of ice? And oof why does my head hurt?"

Elsa ran to her sister and thawed her before tugging her into an embrace. Anna hugged her in return, bewilderment stitching her brows closer.

"Oh hey there, Elsa," Anna said. "I don't suppose you know what's going on? Did we win?"

The queen bit her lip and turned to Hans.

"No," Hans said. "But we were able to deal a very hard blow on my brother's forces. Next time... I think we'll get him."

Anna grinned. "Great! So, what do we do next?"

"Anna there's... something else..."

Her smile fell. "Where's Kristoff?"

"Princess Anna, you might want to sit down for this..."

###

The darkness was so thick, Kristoff wasn't sure if he was dead.

One moment, he was in a forest clearing, almost ready to celebrate their victory. Next thing, the air was so stuffy and cold without a single light source to be seen.

The faint glow that appeared hurt his eyes. It moved, hovering and fluttering about in the darkness, casting away enough shadows to notice that he was in a dungeon of sorts, except there was no wall or door to the room, stone and mortar the only things he could see. As Kristoff's eyes adjusted to the tiny light, he saw that its source was a pixie.

The tiny creature snapped her fingers, and Pieter appeared in the room with him.

"Hello there, Mister Bjorgman," he said. "I do hope you're comfortable."

"Where am I?" Kristoff demanded. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Oh, nothing that would harm you... in the express sense. You know, if you hadn't committed that atrocity with the poisoned sword, you wouldn't be in this predicament. Now, comply and I'll make sure everyone's deaths are swift and painless."

Anna. The others...

Hold on a moment.

"Everyone?" Kristoff asked. "You mean, those with the weird substance in their system? Because if that's the case..."

He pointed to the wrapped wound on his leg where the bolt had hit him earlier. Blood seeped the cloth, but it appeared to have stopped.

King Pieter's reaction was enough to tell him all he needed.

If Kristoff died, so did Pieter.

That meant...

"Leave them alone," Kristoff said. "And I promise to comply. If not..." Not a plea. A bargain.

The Westergaard crossed his arms.

A mental haze lifted from him that he never noticed was there before.

"It appears that we've come to a stalemate," Pieter said. He grabbed the collar of Kristoff's shirt. "They're fortunate that Fate has weakened me. But make no mistake, you will suffer for this."

Kristoff lifted his chin, looking straight into Pieter's eyes. He said, "Better me than them."

Pieter gracelessly released him. He turned to the pixie and nodded.

The pixie waved her arm.

Kristoff was alone in the dark again.

###

Kristoff couldn't be gone! This was a nightmare!

Anna clung to her sister's neck, shaking and sobbing into her shoulder.

"Get him back!" she screeched at Hans.

The prince flinched and looked away.

How could he let this happen? Why Kristoff? Why her?

"I'm sorry, Princess Anna," Hans said.

"No, you're not!"

"I didn't mean to—"

"You're selfish! You let this happen!"

Prince Hans sighed and hunched into himself, pivoting his body away.

She noticed a cage of stone. The world was blanketed in snow. She looked between Elsa and Hans.

They had tried.

No, it wasn't his fault. She was angry, but that didn't give her an excuse to put all the blame on him. It was Pieter. All of it was on Pieter.

Hans wasn't his brother.

"I-I'm sorry, Hans," Anna said. "I'm just..."

"It's okay," Hans said. He picked up his scythe (a new one, Anna finally noticed) and a sword from the ground. He walked south.

"Hans? Where are you going?" Elsa asked.

"Go get your people, Queen Elsa. Jorden and I are going to help rebuild."

Anna prodded Elsa. "No, you go with him, Elsa. I'll get them for you."

Elsa nodded thankfully. She stood and raised her hands, lifting the winter that covered the forest. She went to follow Hans.

###

The events left a bittersweet taste in her mouth.

She and Hans had finally reunited. But at what cost?

What happened to Hans? How did he return? Why was Kristoff taken?

What was going on?

She slunk behind Prince Hans, his bowed head and shuffling feet expressing the guilt he must be feeling about this whole situation.

"You know," he croaked out. "I never really had a chance to process anything." A half-hearted chuckle. "Doesn't even help that I wasn't able to feel anything through a good portion of it."

She reached out to grab his forearm. He paused. He lifted green eyes to her.

"I'm here for you," Elsa said. She offered a small smile. "I didn't get a chance to deal with everything either."

He looked away.

"Why?" He asked.

"Why what?"

"Why... anything? I... I don't even know all the reasons why I came back."

"Wasn't it Jorden that—"

"No, not this time. Not after Pieter broke the other scythe." He sighed. He sheathed the sword and took her hand in his. The rough tip of his thumb traced around one of her knuckles.

"I _chose_ to come back..." Hans said. "For you. Because..."

His chin tucked into his chest and his eyes closed.

Her heart fluttered. But it felt so wrong, especially after everything that happened. Yet her spirits were so low, they were aching to hear _anything_ hopeful.

"Because of what, Prince Hans?"

"Because..."

He let go of her hand and placed his hand on her shoulder before leaning in to place a ghost of a kiss on her cheek. He pulled away and continued walking, his stature even more tense and sullen than earlier.

She stood still, shocked at what just happened.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

"I love you, too, Prince Hans," she said, placing a hand on her cheek.

His shoulders sunk ever-so-slightly downward, but she noticed.

They both knew this meant so many things just got more complicated.

But now it was out in the open.


	20. Epilogue

"Oh, Mister Bjorgman, you don't look so good. Don't worry, I've got just the thing to fix that."

The broth sloshed in the waterskin as Pieter pried Kristoff's mouth open. Kristoff made an effort to keep his mouth closed. Pieter frowned at how weak he was though, and was successful in getting the lip of the container into the blond's mouth. Kristoff coughed as the liquid dribbled onto his chin.

Hmph, not compliant again.

Pieter massaged his thumb into Kristoff's neck, forcing him to swallow.

"There," Pieter said. "Now, was that so hard? Should keep you for a few more days."

Kristoff rested his head against the floor and turned away.

"Not a single mention of gratitude?" Pieter asked. "If it weren't for me, all of your loved ones and all those innocent people would be dead by now. Where's that defiant spirit you showed me a few months ago?"

Kristoff lay motionless, save for the rise and fall of his chest assuring him that he was still alive. Pieter hated that he had to take care of him.

Pathetic.

He probably no longer cared about his loved ones. Now, had he not cursed him to have their lives intertwined, Pieter would have welcomed such apathy. As it now stood...

"They've finally finished rebuilding Arendelle," Pieter said. "I expect them to make efforts into trying to save you."

There was a slight shift from the supine man on the stone floor.

"You're just saying that," a hoarse voice whispered.

"You know me so little," Pieter said. "I rarely say anything unless it serves a purpose."

Kristoff released a long sigh.

Disinterest.

Pieter's fingers twitched, the bile of hate rising in his breast.

He rarely got angry, but ever since the failure of his plan, it had started being a common occurrence. It didn't help that his... "intended ward" was, of course, the one to ruin all of it. Fate was punishing him for defying his purpose, even though he wasn't given an option like everyone else.

Anger was dangerous if left unguided.

Pieter decided to not let it simmer.

"You might find this to be of interest," Pieter said. "Have you ever heard of a 'fairy godmother?'"

Kristoff opened his eyes, blinked once, and closed them again.

That worked as confirmation.

"There are a few tales that go around," Pieter continued. "I guess one of the most famous ones you might have heard of was involved with the events leading up to the union between a peasant and a prince. _Cendrillon_ , to some. _Ashputtel_ for others. However you prefer to call her, you must've noticed that your story bears remarkably similar parallels, what with the peasant marrying royalty. As it was, her story isn't yours, after all.

"In a way, I knew I was to be the next ringmaster to ensure your own 'happily ever after.' But the stories never tell of what happens to the magical godparent, haven't you ever wondered? Being soulless creatures, they were never meant to last much longer than when their purpose was completed.

"Unfair, don't you think? I certainly think so, and because of that, I don't believe Fate or the Land are fit to hold control over their dominions. However, first I needed to get rid of the thing that was in the way of forging my own path. A shame, perhaps, when I learned that I acted too late and the man and the woman already had their child."

"You..." Kristoff said. "You're the one who killed my parents?"

"Oh, goodness, no," Pieter said. "I _hired_ the man who killed your parents. I lost track of you when you were taken to the orphanage. I just assumed that you died as a lonely orphan when the spell to find you didn't work. Turned out that the trolls took you in instead. Don't you think they did a fine job of making sure you get with Princess Anna? I wouldn't be surprised if they influenced her to love you."

The man on the floor tensed, his fists tightening to reveal popping veins and knuckles.

_There's_ the defiant spirit he was looking for.

Of course, it likely manifested itself into wanting Pieter's head, but he knew it should be enough to keep Kristoff alive long enough to enact his backup plan.

It also didn't hurt to notice that making Kristoff angry got rid of his own rising frustration.

"Careful with that anger," Pieter said. "You tend to breathe a lot more in that state. If you didn't yet notice, the walls can only let in so much air being so far underground. Wouldn't want to die of suffocation, would you? Immurement is torture enough."

Pieter snapped his fingers, and the pixies brought him out of the chamber and back into the light of day.

The bait was set. Now to wait for the right time to lure his prey.

 


End file.
